A life, a love, an angst written poem. What's the life of fifteen year old worth, anyway? Absolutley nothing. Nobody would care that I am in love with an eighteen year old who I never see, or lost myself to an eighteen year old who doesn't give a shit about me. Nobody would care that I used to cut myself until my wrists were blue, or that my best friend died of cancer too. Nobody cared, everybody knew. I had to bring my own horizions, I had to live my own dreams, forget everyone else, my life will not be as it seems. I write my poems, I write my words, as I live in a box, wishing I could fly, as do the birds. Absolutley nothing. I am fifteen. I want what I cannot have. I am unhappy with my life. But I smile, and pretend not to know it, because I promise you. I will refuse to show it. No one should have to know the burdens of my life, the tears I cry when I'm lying in my bed. It's no one's problem but my own. I've got the scars I'm hiding, from the times I should've died and I drink to remember them all. well, with this, I think I'll leave you to wonder about me.