sXe

A youthful group- yet low they stoop,
to pick up a bottle is to pull on a throttle.
Send life to the fast lane will suppress their old pain
and it is accepted as normality.

A youthful girl- to proud in the world,
she dose what she want's; her body she flaunts.
The men they adore her bottom front door,
and her parents don't notice a thing.

A youthful teen of but sixteen.
He dose what he feels; for his wound never heals.
A plant in it's prime creates less pain per time,
and his communities to blind to see.

Now, I am only myself; I fear for my health;
I watch their mistakes and my own past breaks.
To have a life made by fuel without being a tool,
and surprisingly I don't hate myself.

A friend

I honestly like the color green;
it is the only colour I've never been.
For there is a way that our skin turns
when it is blessed by bruises and burns.
A child, a student, an adult, or me;
With each well known touch sets our blood free.
To flow away; not hindered by flesh
or to disperse inside our skin-toned mesh.
I stare in wonder at my old friend,
who comes whenever I can not defend.
I glance up; an arm is raised to strike;
his eyes glared while mine are wide.
I wince and cry out in an accustomed pain,
for I have been given a friend again.