I didn't write a poem today because today didn't have meaning.
I didn't read poetry
because it felt like I already had.
I felt still,
and unseen,
misunderstood,
but viewed.
I didn't want to write because I didn't have a unique metaphor,
and I didn't have a unique feeling.
I got in my head telling myself,
It's only good when it's first.
And it's only viewed as pretty when it's labeled original.
And I didn't try to take out my pen
and scribble words that couldn't be said.
I didn't try to breathe in
because I was sinking,
and breathing felt like it would only make it harder.
And trying to talk
would just give me a headache.
And I don't mean to write sad stories
or feel-bad-for-me poems.
But it seems that's what I do.
It seems I can't write happy
because happy can't be placed on one page.
Happy is many pages,
with many mountains
and valleys between them,
separating it too far
to seem pretty.
So I don't know how to say
I'm happy.
I'm just living.
-
Author:
A.N. (
Offline) - Published: August 31st, 2026 11:53
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: peto, turningpoint, not_defined, Fränz Müller
Offline)
Comments4
Great title and so much better than the alternative
"I didn't have a unique feeling "
Yet this is full of emotion
I for one thoroughly enjoyed reading
Keep em coming
Thank you so much! That genuinely means a lot to me, especially knowing that you could feel the emotion behind it.
Sometimes just living is all we can ask for. Things change and there will be better. Hang on
Yes. Thank you!
You are very welcome A.N.
Incredibly powerful write, mate. I can resonate with what you wrote dearly. Well done, and thank you for sharing.
Thank you for the kind words!
Sometimes just getting by is all we have to give, and that should be enough. I felt this one in my bones. Excellent.
Indeed! Thank you!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.