When I wrote these poems I was in a time of hardships and a load of stress. I was maybe 12 years old and even though I hated/still hate poetry with a passion, I found that it was easier to vent. They're all super mediocre and bad, but I thought I'd share it with everyone!
You're red, I'm black
I'm simply a shade that artists never use
you're a colour that bursts all sorts of controversy
and it triggers my feelings too.
I'm depicted as, perhaps one to be belittled in society
you're depicted as someone with superiority
but why? it's just a colour that us humans can't choose
nonetheless I can never see justice in our community.
regardless of those revolutionaries and what they had to go through;
we focus on the ones that shape our world to be a living hell
but when those revolutionaries are mentioned
they're used to improve 'aesthetic' or to be used in a way
that makes the user appear more intelligent
or to make the person seem like they care, but they don't give two glances,
simply following a trend that'll die down soon
just like everyone else in this society has lost hope in humanity.
How many leaves are there on all the trees outside?
How many snowflakes can you count in the sky?
How many atoms can you count that are there in your hands?
Maybe you said it was one or one billion,
whatever that is, I want you to keep in mind;
that those digits you thought of were more than the many times,
that I felt attacked, harassed or violated by
my very own loved ones to strangers, and an endless line of outsiders.
people that I cared about who didn't care that I cry,
either it be love, hate or a sad time for my life
it was apparently meaningless to them that I'd die
maybe not literally but dying to me,
means that the person dies on the inside and thinks that their life,
is a torturous adventure that they cannot live by.