Sir Y

niallprideaux

I wait on the sidelines, counting on

my fingers for every time I'm discarded.

But, I'm playing the game, and I'm

waiting for the right time.

 

I feel like I'm stuck in a nightmare,

the faster you run the slower you get,

"oh Niall, you were good, but you're

just not enough"

 

So I walked all night long in the dark

just to end up back here, only

to feel like nobody; a bench filler with

a gym bag and locker to prove my

uselessness.

 

"A round of applause,

for the great Sir Y."

 

Now my people are the discredited and

"forgotten" - the ones who greet not being

wanted as an old friend, the underdogs who

see everything.

I'm one of them, and that's okay.

 

  • Author: Niall (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 28th, 2017 14:33
  • Comment from author about the poem: One of my favourite artists is a girl called Marina Diamandis. An unreleased song of hers titled "Miss Y" inspired me to write a counterstroke from the point of view of a teenage male feeling cast out by the "jock" sporty type in the locker room. In the end he realises who his crowd is and is at peace with the differences between him and them. Criticism is welcome :)
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 31
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