Average

There’s something I want to confess,

Something I need to get off of my chest,

It’s, that all I ever wanted was to feel as good as the rest,

Not to feel greater, or worthier or even the best,

But just to feel on par with them, would make me feel blessed.

And to feel this way seems like it’s become my life’s quest,

To the point that I may well have become obsessed,

In trying to feel like I’m on par with the rest.

This seems to have unwittingly made life a contest,

And since it’s a competition I won’t win, I’ve become depressed,

But I’m bound by the fear of rejection to always invest,

In the pursuit of proving that I’m equal, and not less.

In this regard I’ve sacrificed much, but to no success.

In this pursuit I’ve pushed myself much, but made little progress.

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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?

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.

 

 

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?

 

 

 

Taken in

Where do I begin?

Perhaps, I’ll start with the dream that took me in,

And then perhaps I’ll take it on the chin,

That when reality did set in,

My pride did wear thin.

 

Although being infatuated,

Is no reason to be castigated.

I can’t but feel humiliated,

For being so fascinated.

 

I wish I could say,

That I was never sucked in this way;

That my dignity was always on display,

And that I, on the better side of obsession, did stay.

 

My head has always pleaded for common sense,

Although my heart was hypnotized by your presence.

But I can’t keep making a fool of myself, hence –

To stop dreaming, is of utmost importance.

 

Now, I finally hope to start anew,

And to finally resist thinking of you.

Here’s to hopefully, bidding you ‘Adieu’.

― From the admirer, you never knew.

 

                                                                                                      

 

 

 

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?

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.