Cillisian Thatcher (desultoryspeech) wrote,
Cillisian Thatcher

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Prepare Yourselves Accordingly (+Poem)

For a brief intro of myself (since I have decided to instead post my favourite authors/musicians/books in my profile) - I am an author(ess) who enjoys a vasy majority of things. I go by the pseudonym Cillisian Thatcher; no you will not know my real name. I hate people, but if you'd prefer to be one I like, feel free to message me.

Past all that, I have nothing else to say, other than that I would appreciate comments on my fanfictions.

And since I can't NOT give you guys something to read, here you are; POEM, WTF?!

Troubled Youth
Your take your deep breathes
And put on a face
Make yourself seem like your ready incase
Everything you imagined
Falls through in your eyes
And brace yourself for the day that you realize
That what they all think of you
That may be true
And when it all happens it’ll be far past due.

On their deathbeds they’ll admit that they’re wrong
Not knowing that you’re already long gone.

They say it’s not sickness
No disease so no cures
That it’s just a fad that tricked you with allures.
When you cry to your parents
When you break down in school
It’s only a façade you wear to be cool.
When deep down, you know it
And so you cover it up
And pretend you okay; no you’ll never cut.

On their deathbeds they’ll admit they were wrong
But by then your life will have been far past gone.

They’ll say its just hormones
Deny that you’re ill
And push you outside for society to kill.
You’ll pretend that you’re happy
You’re parents’ll be glad
And when you finally snap they’ll all call you mad.
And when they finally think
Medication might help
It’ll be to late; you’ll be halfway to hell.

On their deathbeds they’ll admit they were wrong
Your future was bright but you didn’t stay long.

Your mind will draw blanks
You’ll fail in class
Just because some doctor denied you a pass.
And when they all say
‘A pity, a shame’
They’ll deny it’s their fault because you never came clean.
They’ll call you childish
More names and then some
They’ll say you’re the problem and deny that you have one.

On their deathbeds they’ll admit they were wrong,
But because you were acting it’s really your fault.

You’ll lose who you are
Your personality will crack
And they’ll say you take drugs when that’s what you lack.
You’ll practice in mirrors
Learn how to feign
But all the while denying that you’re really in pain.
Because actors can act
And a poet can write
But the chronically depressed are who do it all right.

On their deathbeds they’ll admit they were wrong
Because they denied your freedom, the youth are all gone.

Tags: death beds, intro, mirrors, poem, society, troubled youth, writing
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