Journal

bad poem

ok i only write poetry when i am extremely depressed, and i am not depressed often. i wrote this poem about the "horrid" day.

how long will this facade last?
when will i remove my many faces?
will people ever notice the "real" me?

It feels like i am in the middle of my group and they notice nothing.

I have been screaming so long, my voice is coarse and dry.
This is me, the one who said no, don't do it,
you are never alone.
and yet,
as i sit listening to everyone's sarrows and woos
i wonder
how did everything get to to like this?
why am i in the cornor like this?
i formed this group.
i was the leader.
now i am in the cornor
alone.

People say i am like light. Bright and warm.
If only that where true.


who is there to modivate the modivator?
it seems people only see what they want to see.
what a shame.