*This is not a poem but its like a diary.
09 / 09 / 06
#1
Dear...
Why don't they understand what I'm living ? they don't understand anything from me. They say they do.. but they really don't. I like living. I'm lucky having a family and friends that care so much. But I'm like the odd one. People think they understand me allot and know what I'm living. But they don't know. They say things and I try so hard to prove them wrong. But they always put me down, its always me thats wrong, thats lieing. Always me thats getting in shit...
