Stuck In The Odds (All Alone)

Raymond shawa


The pains, the odds that, always go out of their league to bring me down to my knees, you cannot understand. Pour down like the rains, washed away on different roads but no one seems to care.


So lonely, all alone like the sun and like it my ego always seems to burn everyone around me but not even a sign of self consumption. Well you might take that as an assumption but the miserable me is always stuck in the odds.


No one believes in me anymore and thats what makes me to think, to wonder in rings, they think my life is moving in a circle doesn't make sense though, everyone has a story to tell true that and mine is a tale, not a fairly one while others happen to live a fairy one barely cannot understand my self so can you?.


All alone like cash in a safe within seemingly safe yet water ooze out of my eyes everyday because there is no one to side pocket me and my emotions. All alone like a hillbilly in the mountains only that my hunger and thirst is for the love and self-respect. All alone like a beggar on the street, no one has ever offered me a hand to stand on my feet. All alone like a corona virus patient, isolated, away from my beloved. All alone like the drum in my chest, nothing to replace it when it ceases to beat. Yes all alone, me, myself and i, no where to zoom to, even the sky itself seems so high to look up to, what should i do?


i cannot even sleep anymore because it feels as though my eyes have been cemented with insomniac pillars, the shut eye that i dont get makes a lot of things rush through my head. Its horrible, the noise, rushing through my head, feels like a pack of vultures struggling with a carcass.


Everything in my damned self feels bend because i cannot think straight. All alone i bear wicked thoughts,All alone i stay put while others call the shots, what next? suicidal thoughts!.


Am always not too proud to announce that i crave for help, they say the eyes do not lie but can you muster the courage to look into them and see if i am molded in a good shape. Now i feel like a fugitive because i try to evade all illicit thoughts my mind can stick its clutches in, now, suicidal thoughts born in depths of my head because of the loneliness that keeps whispering in my head like a bestfriend, telling me its going to be till to the end but then then i try to make amend yet in the end it still feels like i pretend. 

  • Author: Raymond shawa (Offline Offline)
  • Published: September 12th, 2022 01:47
  • Category: Sad
  • Views: 8
  • User favorite of this poem: Joker Light.

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