People call me emo,
because of the way I dress,
but it's also because,
I am a mess.
From my leather jacket,
to my black hair,
and the cuts on my wrist.
Oh so little do people care.
My peers never ask if I'm ok,
because they say I don't matter.
So I keep cutting my wrist,
because my brain is scattered.
I am always crying,
with the glass in my arm.
Cuz my peers tell me,
to do self harm.
So all I can do,
is just cry,
because a classmate,
told me I should die.
©noah_law18
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