A look inside

This came as an idea from that "parental privacy" thing and with adults reading their childs diaries and poems and how it isnt fair. Just my view.

Blank sheet of paper,
my pen held above like a gun before fire,
ready to blast out a mass of emotions with no meaning.
Oh on the contrary, they are full of meaning
but only meanings that I cannot understand.

Going through teen age is such a cruel time
those angry and sad feelings rushing through,
when you are least expecting them.
Contentment? IT's gone in a second flat,
erased at the smallest gesture.

My outlet is this- writing down my depression,
my madness, my hapiness, my lack of freedom, my stupidity.
How it should be, how it was, and how it is.

And she confronted me with them. I can't believe she read them!
Anger surges through me, I can't stand her. I thought she cared!
She says she loves me. I thought she loved me! What is this?
Why would she read my personal objects?

And now I spend two hours a day
in this tiny room
with someone to help me understand these emotions
They now unveil themselves as "hormones"
But I didnt want to know. I didnt ASK to know.

I just wanted to write.
And they took away my books.
And exchanged it for speech...

And I'd love nothing more then to jump off the roof of this tiny room, and watch as my emotions leave me.
And I wont have to deal with them.

i like it. yea, it isnt fair when parents go into your shit when it's none of their fucking business..