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Too Young For This.
A poem about a teenage girl living with borderline personality disorder.
Riding in the passenger seat of my life story.
I don’t make my decisions, I get none of the glory.
In—de—ce—sive. Yes. Maybe. No.
Babe, my life’s a story, let me put you on a show.
The story of a young girl, only seventeen.
Being a teenager, she’s the obscene queen.
Staying out, long nights, meeting old friends,
parties every night that the girl attends.
If it’s a real story you want, it won’t be clean.
Life’s so young, yet it gets so mean.
She parties every night but feels alone in the crowd.
The voices. The voices! It gets to loud.
Anxiety strikes, the girl breaks down.
Depression hits, in it, she’ll drown.
The demons of her past, to them she bowed.
Through her mind, the demons plowed.
She tells her friends, but they don’t understand.
She’ll sit alone and sew her heart together by hand.
She’s so alone she cries at night.
She needs someone to save her, get her out of this fright.
The girl goes out to see her favorite band,
No friends will go with her alone she’ll stand.
Nothing seems to fix this never—ending pain,
What’s she got left, what’s she got to gain?
What’s the point of life? All she does is sleep.
She walks to the bathroom and begins to weep.
She takes the blade to her vein,
And watches the blood go down the drain.
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