I am…

I am quiet, yet angry
I wonder how we live in this world of darkness
I hear gun shots spring through the air, breaking the peaceful silence
I see the blood of others who have failed
I want a sense of security, but can find none
I am quiet, yet angry

I pretend everything around me is fine
I feel the eyes of my acquaintances glued to the back of my head
I touch the souls of those whom I meet, leaving a small mark on each one
I worry that I may never find peace in this God-forsaken place
I cry, releasing my anger in tears, instead of in actions I will regret later
I am quiet, yet angry

I understand why I'm different
I say that originality is a good characteristic, but no one hears
I dream about my once true friends
I try to fit in, but in return, I get pushed away
I try to find santuary in the things I once enjoyed
I am quiet, yet angry

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This poem caused quite a bit of shock when I wroteit in my English class, because I seem to be quite the opposite in daily life. But every word of this poem is true...

HgBookworm