A Poem

by A. R. McIntyre

Chapter 1


Perfect grades.
Perfect skills.
Perfect lives.
Now unveiled.

Everything you want me to be.
Everything you though you saw in me.
All the little things you expect of me.
Every single damned thing I'm supposed to be.

I'm not the person you want me to be.
I'm not the one with the best grades.
I don't like these things your pushing onto me.
And when I leave, your dreams of me will fade.

I will no longer have to be the perfect child.
The one I know I'm not, never will be.
And it makes me sick, the way you people are.
Because you can't even see how I'm trapped.
Waiting to be set free.

I'm never going to be,
The person you expect of me.
I know in my heart,
That someday I'll finally fall apart.

And I know deep down you know it as well.
But your just lying to yourself.
Pretending I can take the weight of the world.
Because it's easier than hearing what I have to tell.

The truth is I hate it,
Everything about it.
Every single lie you tell.
Every damned corner in this hell.
And I know someday I'll finally break.
But I can't help to think,
That maybe that day has come to pass
And my life, how long can it last?
If it's just a broken lie.
A unheard cry.
A pathetic try.
And a forgotten sigh.

But it's to be expected.
If you knew the real me I'd be rejected.
And you try to find a way for me to be corrected.
But this life has been far to hectic.
And I'm sure that my voice can't be heard.
And I'm sure that I'm just obscured.

But I'm not a perfect person.
It's impossible, can't be done.
But you think you'll know how I react.
It's ridiculous really, I'm just imperfect.


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