I lack family.
I lack friends.
Nobody cares, I know.
Because if someone cared I’d know?
It still hurts every time I’m let down,
you’d think I’d be used to it by now?
It doesn’t matter that I don’t matter,
I’d just like to be someone who does.
I try to make friends and I’ll act all good.
I’ll try to be involved.
But I’m never involved.
It’s dull not being special.
I’ll be okay but I’m too shy to succeed,
It’s my own fault, probably smoke too much weed.
No, it’s my fault, my head, my problem.
I’m my problem.
- Author: Miffy JY (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: January 21st, 2018 15:48
- Comment from author about the poem: Dark & low places#1 Sorry for the rambling.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 65
- Users favorite of this poem: SorrowfullyHappy
Comments2
I like! Especially how the last lines work in each stanza.
Thank you so much!
to matter is to be used
inside you is infused
the lie you say yourself
what matters is what lies in oneself
I appreciate this!
to matter you must first relies that you do matter to someone somewhere
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