Teenage Hell

Burning, buring,
Flames flying over my legs,
Eyes, can no longer see

Space full of meaningless
Noises, and of course,
Species of human beings.

The dirt you see
Might just be you
The form in others' eyes

They seek not your soul,
But your required pretence,
Curly bouncy hair.

You're not yourself
But reflections of others.
Are you content?

Purr!
Because everyone else does that,
Too!