I hate myself as much as you do, eh.
I'm the dampness that peels off the wall.
I feel ashamed,
just for existing.
I dirty everything I touch,
I am noise,
I am leftover,
a nuisance wherever I am.
Defend and attack:
a life impulse disguised as fury.
But in silence,
in repose,
all that anger becomes tears.
But that's for a whore.
He begins to write,
but he doesn't trust anyone anymore.
What do they expect him to do?
Why?
If in reality,
no one cared at all.
Everyone glosses over their guilt.
The cruelest exile
was losing my innocence.
I lose my soul searching
at the bottom of the trash.
And I dream,
I dream again
this endless cycle.
Constant drowsiness,
followed by insomnia.
If I don't come back,
don't look for me.
Maybe this time
I really did go too deep.
-
Author:
Damaso (
Offline)
- Published: April 20th, 2025 09:44
- Comment from author about the poem: Black child knows things.
- Category: Children
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Comments2
A dark poem of going beyond the limit and we all should know our limits. Nicely written
This is a piece I've wanted to write since I was a child. Street kids know things about the behind-the-scenes of this society. Thanks for stopping by to share your thoughts. Best regards, and have a good Sunday.
Deep, dark, desperate, raw and most importantly real. This, my friend, is an excellent expression of being overwhelmed by society, at wits end, and not sure where the "crossed-line" exists anymore...and the majority in society, live oblivious to it all, unaware that their opiate oblivion (the opiate being complacency) is afforded them by the oppressed they choose to close their eyes on . Impressive write that should be relatable to many...it certainly is relatable to me, my friend. Well done. 🌹👏
Well, my friend, I'm glad it touched you enough to give such a positive response. For me, there's no worse tragedy than the loss or betrayal of a child's trust, a common occurrence on the other side of the bar in this society. Thank you for your words of encouragement. Best regards.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.