Unworldly

In the early stages of my Life’s construction,

I would unwittingly press the button,

Of Self-Destruction.

I did this when I could never find,

The Self-Confidence,

To bring me any peace of mind.

Since this confidence remains elusive,

And its lacking still an obstruction,

I can’t but help remain reclusive,

Until I bring about my Life’s reconstruction.

I could never have foretold,

That by merely feeling unworthy,

Such damage would unfold,

Such damage that’s proving- unworldly.

 

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Dreams

At night my mind replays to me,

My need for love and affection,

Such that I dreamt of a situation,

Whereby, I had come to others’ attention.

They seemed to respond well to my presence,

And to their ranks I was invited,

But my cowardice showed,

So I ran away, and left them unrequited.

Why would I run away?

I felt too embarrassing, too unworthy to stay.

They offered me what I was looking for,

 – A sense of belonging.

But when I got what I wanted, I realised,

I’m not ready for the prize,

But only for its longing.

 

 

 

Blot

Might she be able to love me,

If I obtain perfection?

For surely I am unworthy,

To even the most lenient of perception.

Why would anyone settle for less?

Why would anyone settle for the mess,

That I am?

Can I ever be admired,

For where I am?

Can I ever be loved,

For what I am?

For even my yearning,

Doesn’t make up,

For what I’m not.

And it cannot replace,

What I haven’t got.

And it doesn’t avail,

The blot – that is me.

 

 

The pros and cons of being a loner

Being a loner can mean freedom and imprisonment,

That’s because it has its good points and bad points.

Being a loner means there’s no one there to judge you,

But there’s also no one there to comfort you.

There’s no one there to kick you while you’re down,

Buy there’s also no one there to pick you up from the ground.

There’s no one there to laugh at you,

But also no one there to laugh with.

There’s no one there to make you cry,

But there’s also no shoulder to cry on.

There’s no one around to condemn you,

But no one around to advise you.

There’s no one around to take advantage of you,

But no one around to be devoted to.

There ain’t no one to cause you annoyance,

But there ain’t no one to grant you solace.

There ain’t no one to pick at your flaws,

But there ain’t no one to sing your praises.

There’s nobody there to cause you to frown,

But there’s nobody there to turn a frown upside down.

There’s certainly no one about to harm you,

But certainly no one about to protect you.

There’s isn’t anyone to question you,

But there isn’t anyone to seek answers from.

Ultimately, being alone means there’s no one to fear,

But ultimately, it also means there’s no one to love.

 

 

Yearning

I’m in need,

Of a little love,

A little attention.

I could really use,

Some comfort,

Some affection.

But I understand,

That few are attracted,

To those,

With many limitations.

When it comes to love,

The destitute rarely receive,

Any satisfaction.

Perhaps

Perhaps, if I were stone,

And not made of flesh and bone,

It wouldn’t hurt this much,

To be so lowly.

Perhaps, if I were withered grain,

Without blood flowing through my veins,

It wouldn’t hurt this much,

To feel so lonely.

Scrutiny

As a young boy, I felt a certain sense of nudity,

A sense of self that could be construed, a sort of lunacy.

An expectant state of being judged rather brutally,

A sense of shame that left me void of any dignity.

I felt this way around the people I called my community,

And felt that whenever I appeared, they would leap on the opportunity,

To target my presence and shame my flaws with eager ferocity. 

Now, no longer a boy, I still feel this way with much regularity,

Wondering what could have been, if not for this disparity.

And from this state I desire to wage a zealous mutiny,

Yearning to be free from this state of prolonged captivity.

Will I ever break free from the chains of past hostility?

Will I ever overcome the damage of their spite, their scrutiny?