3:08am

Literally my first poem ever.

3:08am

I've never written poetry before,

Don't know if this is right.

'Correct.'

Whatever.

My sister looks up to me,

And I think, 'Why?'

I'm not the best to look up to.

Because I'm broken.

She thinks I teach her things,

How to act, how to be.

Because our parents messed up,

And I'm the only one around.

But I'm still learning, myself.

Constantly going off of

What I see as 'common sense.'

I have no idea what she sees.

There is this pressure to be perfect,

For my sister, for my friends.

They dismiss this

Notion of mine.

They say, "No!"

And laugh it off.

Wave it away.

Denying what I feel.

But it's always there.

In my head.

Clawing at my brain.

Trying to get my attention.

Every day and every night,

Especially at night,

This notion of mine,

It presses down on me.

On my heart, my lungs.

And it whispers,

'Be perfect for them,

Or they'll leave you.'

Another word for pressure,

Is fear.

Reviews

[Planet x]

I enjoy reading your words ,
I felt the storm inside you

'Be perfect for them,
Or they'll leave you.'

You shouldn't be perfect for anyone