poetry

Did you realy die,
Is that the reson that I cry
Or am I just crazy in everybody elses eyes?

Did you realy shoot yourself in the head,
Are you realy dead,
Or is it all something made up in a young inocent girls head?

Am I crazy dad,
Is my life realy this sad,
Or is this depression something I made up because sorrow I never had?

Sometimes I feel crazy inside,
When I have noone in whom I can confide,
Like when I stab myself and try to take my own life.

Am I crazy dad,
My life is realy this sad,
My happiness I must have made up, because sorrow is all I'v ever had.

I sit and talk to you through unbrakeable glass,
You tell me your feuture and you tell me your past.
You said that you'd say you needed help, but noone cared to ask.

But it's too late now,
You screwed up but how?
You can't remember 'cause the voices controll you now.

Here is my story now,
But noone else knows so your silence you must vow.

I am insane I swear,
My black cloths are like the straightjacket you wear.
And no matter how hard I try, noone seems to care.
It amazes me how much we share,
your burdins are like the ones that I bear.

When I grow up I'll be like you,
Though now I am only the dirt on the human race's shoe.

Someday I'll be thrown in a room,
Unopenable like a shut and locked toom.

People will point and laugh at me,
And make fun of the voices I hear,
and the visions I see,
But that's O.K. I'll allways be phycotic me.

Often now,
When I think about my life,
I think about myself,
I am a living sacrifice,

They have hung me in the town square,
The children throw things at me,
and everybody stares,

I am a freak show,
Put on display,
I am the lowest of low,
I can't live this way.

Though I try,
I can't brake these chains,
Forever they have
My movement restrained,

After I was born,
I was bound,
By something unexplainable,
By something profound,

And here I am,
Still this day,
A freak show
On display.

It's just so screwed up,
The way that I keep hanging out with you,
You're crazy I swear,
Wich personality is realy you?

You were my best friend,
You told me things no one knew,
You helped me through everything,
I thought I helped you.

You lied to me,
You said things that were untrue,
You said you screwed a guy last week,
That guy you hardly knew.

You let me read your diary
From when you were thirteen,
I read about your mom,
I'm sorry she's so mean.

I could tell the whole school
About when you use to smoke pot,
Or the voices you hear,
Or all the boyfriends you've got.

I could tell the quarterback that he's been played,
Or the polish guy to stay away,
Or the guy from Texes that you layed,
That he's not the first and he should have paid,

But I'm not like that,
I'm not like you,
I respect what you've got,
Even though none of it's true.

You've worked so hard
To make the people belive,
That you're everything you're not,
That there's nothing you need,

But it's all a lie,
You act happy,
But why?
Why not let them see you cry,
Tell them you attempted suicied,
Tell about the voices,
That make you scream and swear,
Just let them see you;
Let down your hair.

(C) Brandi Noel
September 2001
To: S***** C*****