By Stacy   

Numb is how she feels
It’s how she tastes,
It’s how her world works.
Slowly her world is crumbling up,
Piece by piece it is degrading.
Until she can’t take it anymore.
She gave up, her world was terrible.
No one understood her,
No one loved her.
So what was the point of living?
Why live in a terrible place,
A place people call “amazing” yet it’s not.
It’s a disgusting, horrible, torturous place
We call “home.”
Though it’s not.
A light shined through the blue-black room.
Weight lifted off her shoulders.
Her world was looking up after all.
She didn’t believe it,
She couldn’t.
It was hard for her to open up,
Though somehow she did.
Her blue-black room started peeling
Like wallpaper being taken off
Slowly yet satisfyingly
Behind the blue-black room was the lightest
Shade of pink you’d ever see.
She closes her eyes, as a smiles creeps
Up to her face,
her pain had been taken away.
She was freed from the torturous place,
She called home.

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July 16,2019 update: I wrote this poem in 7th grade and I believe I posted it in 8th grade? cringe if you'd like. I stopped writing poetry, I was at a bad point in life, but now i'm back hopefully improving. You can rate my poem and i'll rate yours! Just ask.