I was assigned to the city—
a broken toy
no one wanted.
The screams,
the whispers through tears,
prayers that don’t have the faith of a flea,
the simple math of remorse,
flagging taxis in the rain.
I stand with impotent eyes,
watch with empty pockets
under the neon jazz.
I want to bleed,
to tumble into irreverent choices.
Feel something real—
cold cement,
aching feet.
I want their importance.
The sour taste of failure
on their tongues.
The scorching desire
of love.
I grab at the heat from the streetlight,
the tears and celebrations that don’t need me.
I could come down, join the chaos—
but I turn my back.
There’s no danger in watching,
though it tastes like decay.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 21st, 2025 09:50
- Comment from author about the poem: I just posted a new long-form reading on my YouTube channel — the first half of my short story Whoops! along with two poems, There Was a Time Without the Internet and Under My Bed. If you’d like to hear the work read aloud, you can find it here: 👉 YouTube Reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kq0UTaJahjg If you’re interested in the books, they’re available on Amazon under my name — poetry and short fiction, raw and unpolished, for those who like it that way.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments6
Well written, Thomas, your poem revolves around feelings of isolation, longing, and the struggle for connection in an urban environment. The poet feels like a "broken toy," unwanted and marginalized, observing life from a distance without engaging.
Thanks
Good write Tom.
Thank you.
Thomas, the phrase “neon jazz” stands out. It captures the city’s pulse without romance, turning light and sound into something watchful and indifferent. That image anchors the poem. Wonderful job, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thank you. I appreciate it.
You are most welcome, Thomas!
What a powerful poem Thomas. I have had cutters tell me that they cut to feel the pain to know that they are real that there is something inside so they can see the blood run to know they are alive. All this filters through this write in different ways. Well said
Thank you so much.
Most welcome Thomas
Good write, Thomas🙏🏻🕊️
Thanks.
Thomas,
OK, I had read this yesterday, but I was called away for something and my poor memory took care of the rest. I apologize. This is raw emotion and you don't flinch. There is sadness. A fear of and lack of connection. A hard way to live. That's my take. Thank you for sharing this. I doubt that it was easy.
You have my sympathies.
Thanks.
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