deepundergroundpoetry.com
It's just me...
So it's just me...
Sitting over here with no use to anyone,
Hating my mediocre life.
The others exchange presents as my existence is forgotten.
Snowmen are melting, but this pit of nothingness
I call a soul
Is laced in the cold blood of my slain dreams.
This depression makes my pessimism look like a Christmas recital.
No one sees me cry; they are to busy
being distracted by something shiny.
So it's just me, planning my escape from here, leaving the prejudice snow and the dumb and deaf and blind.
Sitting over here with no use to anyone,
Hating my mediocre life.
The others exchange presents as my existence is forgotten.
Snowmen are melting, but this pit of nothingness
I call a soul
Is laced in the cold blood of my slain dreams.
This depression makes my pessimism look like a Christmas recital.
No one sees me cry; they are to busy
being distracted by something shiny.
So it's just me, planning my escape from here, leaving the prejudice snow and the dumb and deaf and blind.
Published 20th Dec 2013
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The author encourages honest critique.
5th Jan 2014 11:18pm
For me the most powerful line is: "Is laced in the cold blood of my slain dreams." I can relate due to personal experience to the feeling this poem evokes in me, a feeling of being ignored, of having my presence feel as though I might as well be a ghost to others. It evokes in me the feeling of the loner I was for decades, and the loner still residing in my heart.
6th Jan 2014 9:26pm
Thank you for your feedback! I'm glad to know that others are reading and relating to my poems, even if the topics aren't ideal or positive.
