I’m Tired

I’m sick and tired,

Of feeling sick and tired.

Is all this merely a result of how my brain is wired?

Or is this malaise somehow acquired,

Or perhaps a result of some plot, conspired?

I yearn for relief from this state, undesired.

For how much longer must I feel like an entity, expired?


Changing Seasons

Winter’s arriving,

And a part of me is glad.

Though when one season comes,

The other must depart,

Which usually leaves me feeling sad.

This Summer’s progress though has been but few,

And I know Winter leaves little chance to start anew.

The Summer was filled with sunshine,

But without much rain,

Which made progress a pain,

And since something was lacking,

I hardly made a gain.

So I enter Winter still searching for missing pieces,

But should I hope for what I’m looking for,

In the season when almost everything decreases?






Feeling wrong

What’s the reason for seeing myself as so bizarre?

Like a monster who treads the earth, wearing some frightful scar.

What prompts me to feel like something so absurd?

Like one so vile, he should not be seen of nor heard.

Could it be the layers of imperfection which cause the shame?

Or are the menacing words of cruel people to blame?

You know that something is wrong, when you don’t feel right.

You know something is wrong, when it’s easier to be out of sight.

I would like to know why it is I feel this weird,

And seemingly struck by misfortune, so poorly engineered.

Am I really as pathetic as the taunter’s words make me feel?

Are any of these feelings even real? 


You live, somewhere beyond,

Some place, I can’t get to.

My fortitude, does not correspond,

With the place, in which I’m desperate to find you.

I had convinced myself, rather foolishly,

That we’re both of the same kind.

Hoping that by you, I would be loved exclusively,

But who can love one, with such a delicate mind?




The Pebbled Shore II

As the gloom lifted, and the clouds moved away,

The sun finally shone upon your gloomy pebbled shore,

And your heart lifted and you began to dream of more.


You could not have foreseen that,

Such a vessel would visit your stretch of lonely shore.

And even your stubborn hope could not have hoped for,

A ship so beautiful to set foot at your door.


But you are aware that your island is an inaccessible place,

With no harbour for her to dock, or the means for her travelers to come ashore.

And you had little courage to swim across the crashing waves,

So for them to conjour a way to you, was all you could wish for.


But neither you nor they were willing to bridge the gap, so her visit was only that,

A brief station on the waters some way off the shore.

Although you were filled with wishful thinking,

Hoping your island would finally be explored.


That wish would be unfulfilled,

So she sailed away from you, when you waited at the shore.

And you knew that your chance to escape with her,

And her travelers, was no more.


Ever since, you’ve been consumed with placing messages,

Into the sea, which you place into the water near the shore.

Hoping it will reach her, or something connected with her,

And by your calling words, she’ll visit your island the way she did before.


But she’s seas away now, sailing on calm, warmer waters,

Nothing like the cold, violent sea, which surrounds your island’s shore.

And despite your longing to be visited on your lonely island,

You know that your chance to see her again, is no more.


Loneliness II

Loneliness is not just the state of being on your own,

Oh no, it’s far more complicated than that.

It’s the feeling of being left behind,

Of being the least worthy of your kind,

And the feelings of inferiority that run through your mind.

Loneliness is a paradox,

It’s about feeling conspicuous and invisible,

And about feeling relieved and miserable.

Loneliness can empty the void or fill the abyss,

It can leave us content or amiss.

Loneliness is an irony,

It’s about yearning to belong,

And about yearning to run away.

It’s wanting to be left alone,

And hoping they’ll stay.

Loneliness is desperation,

It’s when you start to obsess,

It’s always wanting more,

And never being happy with less.

Loneliness is the shadow that lurks,

Even when there’s people around.

It’s the gloom, the shade that covers the ground.

Loneliness is the want of being found.

It’s pretending you’re not in love,

Even when your sweetheart is around.

It’s shying away,

It’s never looking them in the eye,

It’s the reason for hiding, and not coming out to play,

And feeling restless throughout the day.

Its feeling like you can’t do anything right,

And it’s what keeps you awake at night.

Loneliness is so much more than a situation,

It’s the state of our mind, our fears, our aspirations.

Who can love me?

Who can love me as I am?

Who can love this pale imitation of a man?

Who out there is willing to say:

“As you are, please stay.”?

Who is blind enough to take on the task,

Of rebuilding the shattered pieces of glass,

That once formed the mirror of my content,

But now is just the source of my constant lament?

Who is she, so fair, that would give me a chance?

Where is she, the one, that can my worthiness enhance?