Angst of a 14 year old. (Patreon)

I always weep through the night.

I can't even put up a fight.

My skin, it burns,

My stomach turns,

My eyes are red from lack of tears.

But still the night holds my fears

I beg for mercy, I beg for days.

But still the light holds my praise.

Death will soon knock at my door,

And I will answer this call for-

The pain-a streak, my body weak.

So I'll lay down and fall asleep.

in the thoughts of those who hold,

The truth denied, the truth untold.

To why I weep, to why I cried.

To why I hurt, to why I died.

-Amber Greenlee (1996)

This was a VERY old poem of mine I wrote when I was 14 and SO VERY DEEEP. That being said, I still like it.