Teen Poetry Collections


 By a young woman in juvenile detention, age 17

I have a scar on my forehead from him
I think about him all the time
So let me tell you all the things I wish he did differently
I wish that he actually listened to me
I wish he expressed his anger differently
He expressed it through drugs and violence
because he has a lot of pain in his heart—
If his heart was a house it would be black,
the windows would be broken,
the yard would be full
of growing trees and dead plants,
because he did try
I wish he cared about himself more
and that he knew
how much everybody around him cares about him
and loves him
He can’t see that—
and he takes the easy way out
If he actually listened to me
he would hear the sound of a mother singing.