She felt the coldness,
quivering through her body.
She was in deep thought.
School wasn't her place,
sure she has friends.
But that didn't make her feel worthy.
She would look at herself and
think she looked like a fat giraffe.
Failure would constantly be on her mind.
Depressed, beauty.
She would go home and hear yelling
and screaming as loud as a jungle.
She saw the anger in him
and she saw her parents breaking down.
Depressed, beauty.
She wanted to be strong,
but depressed beauty brought her down.
She saw he was stuck and not himself.
He knew he was hurting everybody.
Mom. Dad. All of the relatives. Her, too.
He had no idea how to control the angry.
Depressed, beauty.
Where did the kindness go?
Where did he go?
He wanted to be strong,
so he tired to act bigger than all of us.
Steel isn't made of anger.
Is failure constantly on his mind too?
Depressed, beauty.
-
Author:
Rosa (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 10th, 2017 17:56
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 18
Offline)
Comments1
Great that your poem seeks out the human dignity of the oppressor (beauty) and in a work of compassion, makes excuses (depression) for his aggressive behaviors. Let's turn him on to our many friends at NAMI who really do want to help.
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