Broken-Hearted Teenager

I’m pulling out some of my younger poetry from, well, when I was younger. It’s terribly written, but it’s who I was then.

Wednesday, Oct. 03, 2001 – 3:17 p.m.
They tell me to make a Christmas Wish
To wish for whatever I please
And the wish for I want
Gets me down on my knees
I do not wish for money
I do not wish for toys
I do not wish for clothes
Or other little joys
My wish is for my Daddy
For him to take time to think
Before he decides to sip
His achocalic drink

Wednesday, Oct. 17, 2001 – 9:56 p.m.
If you had a choice
Between beer and family
Let me ask you a question-
What would your choice be?

Let me tell you my father’s choice
One that brought so much pain
A choice that brought me
Tears that fall like rain

He picked his beer
Over the family
At times I feel
It’s more valued then me

How could he pick
His beer over me
Hurt and destory
His whole family?

I’ll never understand
I’ll never know why
I’ll be able to stop
The tears which I cry

If you have that choice-
Please choose your family
Because I come from
Experience, you see.

Monday, Jan. 07, 2002 – 8:45 p.m.

Even though you hear my laugh
You don’t know what I hide
For as the joyous sound comes out
Tears are flowing inside

A smile may be on my face
But that smile’s a lie
For hidden, deep within
I frankly want to die

I may seem happy
But I am depressed
I may seem joyful
But I am upset

And when the tears
Brim in my eyes
Telling you it’s allergies
Is one of my lies

So when you ask me
“How do you do?”
I might not tell
The truth to you

So remember when you see me….
Looks aren’t always what lays outside
For with every smile I smile
Another tear I cry

Tuesday, Jan. 22, 2002 – 8:43 p.m.
I sit back and wonder
If I would to die
If anyone would care
If anyone would cry

I sit back and ponder
The meaning of life
Why I was given
All this pain and strife

Friendships fading away
Old friends are gone
Time to pack up
Time to move on

Schoolwork is falling
I’m starting to fail
I’m starting to cry
Starting to wail

Family is shattering
My heart is in two
I’m hiding the pain
In my big eyes of blue

Mabye if I just
Curl up and die
No one will care
No one will cry


I was so broken all those year ago. And I’m so sad I was so lost, so alone.
If only I could go back and tell 14-year-old Nora that it gets better.
That she’ll find friends! That she’ll find love! That she’ll find hope!
That she’ll break ties with those asshats, that she’ll break FREE of that pain. That she’ll still fight with PTSD, ED-NOS, major depression, chronic pain… but she’ll find a support system.

And that her life is beautiful.

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