Youth Voice Writing Contest 2023 — First Place, Poetry
Entrapped,
Locked in to this state from my past
Trying to survive,
I wish I wanted to last
I can’t hide who I am,
so instead, I stay silent
They won’t know my inner struggle
I’m an expert, I hide it
In a world of so many, I feel I’m that one
So over running from the person I’ve become
I can’t let myself feel happy for too long
A system taught me that I didn’t belong
You asked about the justice system?
What about the Foster system?
Let’s talk about its effects and how it gave me stockholm syndrome
Legally an adult, free to make my own way
Inside, I’m a child that was left to betray
In dismay
I ask for my mental health to be restored
Please make it better, my mind is on record
and replay
‘cause they play
again and again
the voices, the pain, that child that’s within
I can’t love for too long ‘cause I’ve never been that
I can’t let down my guards,
I already did that
I can’t take another loss, another failure, another lesson
I don’t believe in God but I gotta believe in blessings
I gotta believe it gets easier to keep going all the time
When I’m so behind the minds that share my time
People my age, I mean, my counterparts
I feel so different, so I stay apart
They don’t know who I am
They don’t know where I stand
I’m really just faking it
nine times out of ten
And that one percent,
that’s when I’m alone
so I can simply just be
that little girl with no home,
this little person that roams
I wish they understood
I wish I could meet someone who simply just could
but none of them can
I’m in love with abuse
I crave disappointment
because what’s the use?
The effects of the system,
it taught me my worth
It taught me that there is no safe place on this earth
Intentions are unknown,
just like the future
so I live life in moments
‘cause I’m sick of the bloopers
I’m sick of having a plan,
then destroying it myself
This stockholm syndrome, I can’t be no one else
They want a version of me,
but I swear I fake it
And I gotta keep faking cause that’s how you make it
I feel it’s too late
to heal from these wounds,
to heal before I set foot in the tomb
I’m trying, though
I wish they understood
I wish when I saw myself,
I just saw good
But I just see broken,
and broken is ugly
I try and pay attention
to what is in front of me
But I can’t let go
of the definitions of the past
Other people always leave
but this syndrome will last