Dieing Breed

Reads: 234  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The dieing breed of individualists and individuality

Submitted: December 13, 2009

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 13, 2009

A A A

A A A


I sit in my corner that
Looks out into the world outside
Of my window.
 
I see the crowd and everything they’re
Doing, seeing all of the things
That they blindly choose to embrace,
See all of the things that they refuse
To look for in the world around them.
 
I know I don’t belong among those
Faces out there.
I know that I’ll never fit in
To the daily games they
Choose to play.
 
I’ll always be that girl.
The Goth.
The Punk.
The only one with their
Own face.
 
The only one willing to face
My own sorrow and my own
Anxiety, willing to look
At the world without the drug induced
Happiness they all seem to love.
 
I saw the dark side of
Life while I was still young.
I live the dark side of life as
I keep getting older in a world
That values plastic surgery as
The only form of beauty.
 
I am alone.
I am the face of a dieing breed.
I am myself


© Copyright 2019 shaddix. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: