Waste.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem I wrote one night, summarizing what I am feeling about my life right now.

Submitted: May 08, 2010

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Submitted: May 08, 2010

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Waste.


I live in a world where no one understands.

No one notices the pain I am in.

I feel pathetic ungrateful and weak,

Because I am lucky to even live in my own skin.


Days go by and the pearly moon changes shape,

My world still thinks I am a lively child.

But I have been hurt, disgraced and ashamed,

But compared to some my hurt is so mild.


I hate my pain. My pain is nothing next to others.

I want so badly to be the person I could be.

I don't try as hard as I can, and I can't understand why I do this to myself

When I look in the mirror I see a failure, not me.


I feel like my life is a crinkled wad of paper.

So much creativity, so much to waste

I am given so much, but I throw so much away.

If I die, will I be easy to replace?


I see picture of starving children.

I see news clips of genocide of the innocent.

I think my life is so horrible.

I am a selfish greedy, the life I am given is so brilliant.


Then why, I want to know, do I feel like this?

Can I never be satisfied with what I am given?

Am I the ignorant person I think I am?

What's wrong with me? I can I be forgiven?


© Copyright 2017 Janie Doe. All rights reserved.

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