Tell Me

Tell me please.
No, you don't deserve my manner nor my polite tone.
Tell me.
At fifteen i am unknowing, admittedly naive; expressing contradictive opinions as my mind cradles piddling pities and trivial worries.
But despite this i have almighty anger
I have frustration that is shrugged off when my words are spat onto elders. The wise.

Tell me now.
Why, there is this desire to carry on looking
For things that are hidden. And should be hidden. And can be hidden.
Tell me, for this is all i know