I won't win a Nobel Prize,
it was just one of the lies.
Wish at 11:11 for love of life,
at 11:12 less attractive than a knife.
It's lonely at the peak with so
many people, neither high nor low.
So I lie to my foe-
I'm best in my row.
But I'm not and will never be,
the future I can see,
bleaker than free,
just me.
Mean, median, mode - my friends,
don't tell me about dead ends.
Lying and bluffing are trends,
maybe I'll just ascend.
-
Author:
yellow moon (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 24th, 2026 02:23
- Comment from author about the poem: The curse of being average.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: A.N., Fränz Müller
Offline)
Comments3
Average is the greatest advantage, one melts into a crowd, one is easily accepted, drawing little attention one gets peace. Nicely written
Great perspective sir!
Have a great day
I'll second Soren (above) on that. You have the freedom to be unobtrusive, to live life as you wish. And make judgements on perspective without the need to meet other's expectations.
Valid
We are often far more special than even we realize. Sometimes we just need to see ourselves through the eyes of others to gain that fresh perspective. Great work!.
That's true. Thank you!!
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