deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Rain
I don't know how I feel about rain
I hate it and I love it
I guess like anything else
I'm sitting on a park bench
Feeling like I've got no place to go
I have friends and family who give a shit, so what the fuck?
Why am I sitting here feeling empty
I thought I'd gotten past this?
For 7 months I felt like life was worth the living again
But here I am sitting in the rain again. I punched a guy again and I don't know why, all he said was get off my garden wall
I wasn't even drunk but when my friends asked i pretended to be
I thought gotten past this but it must have been a temporary reprieve
I'm not even sad, don't really have any regrets
most my life I've lived it to its fullest extent, never thought twice about some stupid shit or thought ahead
It served me well until death paid my family a visit, and the one that we loved most
Then suddenly thoughts of my future were all I could think
thoughts of how any wedding i had would seem empty
How any future kids wouldn't have the best aunty that I've ever known For almost 2 years I didn't know who the fuck I was, didn't know what to believe
I know death comes to us all, and it wasn't even so unexpected so why did it affect me so much?
How could it leave me questioning absolutely everything I've ever held dear
Leave me distant from everyone who ever tried to show me some love? Then right when I'd almost stopped caring, a girl came along
and weaselled her way into my life
Didn't look at me weird or ask why my first response was always flipping out
She just laughed and called it a napoleon complex
Said i must have a small dick, and smoked some weed with me while we sang along to the fresh prince
Somehow she got me to open up, and got me looking forward to the future again
All without even trying, that's a trick I really need to learn
7 months of talking day and night, of knowing me better than I know myself
Sounds cliche and corny I'll admit, but who else knows when I need to be left alone just from the look on my face? A couple of hours of closeness and a remote kind of love
and just when I needed it a kiss and a hug.
That's it, that's all it took. I was back to who i used to be, the bubbly idiot who everyone seemed to love.
No more pointless anger, no barely pent up rage
no questioning the ways of gods sadistic humour.
Just back to the guy who just laughed and took it as a joke when tension started to surface
Its been four months and i thought that i was fine
But know Its back, and I'm sitting in the rain in some fucking shit filled park
Hand still hurting and clothes soaking wet
I don't know why some people make such a big difference and I don't know what's worse
Knowing there's someone who fills the empty spaces, but not being there
Or feeling like there's no one who can close that space
I cant open up anymore and feel its impossible to get hurt
the walls are up again, and she's not here to talk
She said she'd always help, when I felt like this, but prides a fucking bastard, he never let's me dial
I'm surrounded by people who care, but they don't seem to count
I know this isn't any kind of fucking poetry but I'm feeling empty again
and I have no fucking clue why
I'm hoping a moment of plain and simple honesty will make it go away again
I hate it and I love it
I guess like anything else
I'm sitting on a park bench
Feeling like I've got no place to go
I have friends and family who give a shit, so what the fuck?
Why am I sitting here feeling empty
I thought I'd gotten past this?
For 7 months I felt like life was worth the living again
But here I am sitting in the rain again. I punched a guy again and I don't know why, all he said was get off my garden wall
I wasn't even drunk but when my friends asked i pretended to be
I thought gotten past this but it must have been a temporary reprieve
I'm not even sad, don't really have any regrets
most my life I've lived it to its fullest extent, never thought twice about some stupid shit or thought ahead
It served me well until death paid my family a visit, and the one that we loved most
Then suddenly thoughts of my future were all I could think
thoughts of how any wedding i had would seem empty
How any future kids wouldn't have the best aunty that I've ever known For almost 2 years I didn't know who the fuck I was, didn't know what to believe
I know death comes to us all, and it wasn't even so unexpected so why did it affect me so much?
How could it leave me questioning absolutely everything I've ever held dear
Leave me distant from everyone who ever tried to show me some love? Then right when I'd almost stopped caring, a girl came along
and weaselled her way into my life
Didn't look at me weird or ask why my first response was always flipping out
She just laughed and called it a napoleon complex
Said i must have a small dick, and smoked some weed with me while we sang along to the fresh prince
Somehow she got me to open up, and got me looking forward to the future again
All without even trying, that's a trick I really need to learn
7 months of talking day and night, of knowing me better than I know myself
Sounds cliche and corny I'll admit, but who else knows when I need to be left alone just from the look on my face? A couple of hours of closeness and a remote kind of love
and just when I needed it a kiss and a hug.
That's it, that's all it took. I was back to who i used to be, the bubbly idiot who everyone seemed to love.
No more pointless anger, no barely pent up rage
no questioning the ways of gods sadistic humour.
Just back to the guy who just laughed and took it as a joke when tension started to surface
Its been four months and i thought that i was fine
But know Its back, and I'm sitting in the rain in some fucking shit filled park
Hand still hurting and clothes soaking wet
I don't know why some people make such a big difference and I don't know what's worse
Knowing there's someone who fills the empty spaces, but not being there
Or feeling like there's no one who can close that space
I cant open up anymore and feel its impossible to get hurt
the walls are up again, and she's not here to talk
She said she'd always help, when I felt like this, but prides a fucking bastard, he never let's me dial
I'm surrounded by people who care, but they don't seem to count
I know this isn't any kind of fucking poetry but I'm feeling empty again
and I have no fucking clue why
I'm hoping a moment of plain and simple honesty will make it go away again
Published 25th Dec 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
25th Dec 2012 11:22am
I don't know how to help, or even if you'd want the help. But I thought I'd at least tell you if you'll keep on writing, I'll keep on reading. Just a pair of eyes taking in what you've said and acknowledging that you've been heard. And understood the best way I can without knowing you. You see, my grandson died and I felt as if the sun left the earth. I quit hearing the birds, and nature and love and life and I was in a deep black mind pit. Now I walk on the sand by the ocean every day. I had to, to bring back calm. I looked into my families eyes and saw their fear for me and I forced myself to see the beauty of the world we live in and the mostly wonderful people who live here. So pick up the phone and call the girl. You don't have to tell her you're in the black again. Just tell her she's a good friend. Just say hello. And remember. You keep writing and I'll keep reading. Have a good one if you can.
25th Dec 2012 3:02pm
27th Dec 2012 1:10pm
thank you Gigi. Sometimes a pair O ears and eyes are all we have. Sometimes it's enough.
25th Dec 2012 11:43am
Thank you, for the support and for a putting a smile on my face with the last few lines. I've been trying to write and haven't been able to, writing this even if technically it might not be a poem, really helped, as did your understanding :)
The help is really what makes me close off, I know it's odd :s
The help is really what makes me close off, I know it's odd :s
25th Dec 2012 12:05pm
hey no problem. You put a smile on my face when you commented on my ozzy and titty mouse bedtime story. And I think "The Rain" was written in Prose. Or freestyle. I'm gonna have to google it cause I've forgotten what prose is. And, That is odd, the help closing you off. But I've known much odder. lol
25th Dec 2012 12:31pm
Lol that story was truly epic, I loved it! I don't think I've ever really known what prose or freestyle is tbh, just sometimes you read something and even if its not structured in a way you know you can just tell that it's poetry, sometimes it seems like a letter to yourself or a short poem, I haven't quite manage to figure out the distinction yet. And it's not so much the help itself as the sympathy on people's faces when they try and help I guess, must be that bastard pride again lol
25th Dec 2012 12:41pm
hahaha. Yes, pride before the fall... When my grandson died I couldn't stand to see sympathy on peoples faces, I just wanted to slap the sympathy right off. And I knew if just one child picked up his little box of ashes and shook it, I would be in pison for murder.Crazy huh! I told you I knew some odd people.
