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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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.

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?

 

 

 

Bare

I feel so lacking,

Like a guitar without strings.

I feel so defective,

A bird without wings.

What use can I be,

When I’m a bow with no arrow?

What good is there in being me,

When I’ve lost all joy, and gained only sorrow?

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? 

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.

Vanity, Unfair?

Am I to be perceived as vain?

Since I try to avoid more pain,

Caused by your mocking and your stares,

By your giggles and your glares,

Your insults and your sneers,

And your harsh words used over the years.

Does this make me vain?

Hoping to stay clear,

Of the derision and the fear?

Things caused by you,

The same ones who should label me now,

Whose kind words are few,

And whose insults are lowbrow.

Now I perceive you as the harsh judge,

The one who holds an unnecessary grudge,

The critic looking to pounce on every flaw,

The wolf waiting at the door.

Now around you I am shy,

Does this really make me such a vain guy?