Every so often, once in a while
I am reminded of my wrong doings
I feel a warm sensation trickle down my thin arms
I am clutching at my hands again
I am dragging myself down
Every so often
I wake up
I realise the days have turned to weeks
I really should get back to my life
I can do no harm if I live the world of a man in his place
Every so often
I reach out
And I touch the white corpse of my body
No longer can I be shown to the world
For the world has turned the blind eye
Every so often
Sometimes I sit and think
I rarely learn
Instead repeating a life without values
Calling the sentence living
Every so often
I get by
Sometimes I even present myself to those who come too close
I open old doors with anticipation of appreciation
Instead met with a voice I know too well
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Author:
A piece of luggage (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 8th, 2026 11:17
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
- Users favorite of this poem: Rachel Poole

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Comments2
A poem of being and acceptance of that sharing with those that approach nicely done
Dark and lonely. A description of self-inflicted torment. "Every so often," becomes closer to always. If this is fiction, you've created an excellent image of self-deprecation. If not, then perhaps it expresses a cry for help. Either way, your words are moving and powerful. An eerie and frightening poem that delivers, - Phil A.
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