A wonderful waste of time.
It seems that's all I can be.
A distraction, a burden, an unnecessary thing,
those are the roles been given to me.
A unwanted, useless sort.
Just a drain on things of value.
A wasted lot of a broken whole,
with nothing I can give you.
That may be all I’m any good for,
just being a bother for any else.
Perhaps it would just be better,
if I stick to my own hells?
A wonderful waste of time.
It's all I've ever been, my friend.
I'm sorry for having wasted your time,
but I promise you that's at an end.
For I promise now I'll be more useful,
and do better, more important things.
I'll find a way to not just be a waste,
and find what value I can bring.
-
Author:
Just Another Fellow (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 19th, 2018 18:28
- Comment from author about the poem: I've been cleaning house lately, and as I've been digging through much of my old belongings, I keep finding old notebooks and random pages full of drawings, stories, and poetry I had done around six, close to seven years ago. So, I thought, why not actually share some of it? Mind you, it isn't all the happiest sort, but I like seeing where I've come from with my creations.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Mads
Offline)
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