Why do you hate me so much?
I don't think you really love me.
I live through everyday, wondering if anyone out there really loves me.
But right now I don't feel loved.
I feel useless and unworthy of anything.
I feel like a piece of trash that is always kicked around, blown around in the wind.
Maybe I deserve this treatment.
Maybe I'm just not enough to love.
Maybe I was never meant to live.
I don't know, and I don't have any answers.
Oh, Honey. (I'm southern, it's a colloquial term--not meant to demean you.)
I've been there. I don't know how old you are or what your story is, but I've been there. We've all felt those emotions.
As an honest piece of feedback, I don't feel this was more than a journal entry. Polish it. Explore those feelings and truly shape them into a poem. Writing is about sharing, exposing. You're only on the surface. Dive into it.