Me
No one wants me, no one loves me.
I might as well be dead.
I'm not who they want me to be,
I'm not even who I want me to be.
I only dream of going away, in my soft hole
of depression, sinking farther in.
Because there I am safe from the heartache and
sorrow that envelops me always.
I am someone; yet, no one special.
That is what infuriates me the most.
Why can't I be good at something, to excel and succeed.
Why must I be me?
Homely and pudgy.
But, I suppose I must learn to live with the angst and
Anguish of everyday life. Waiting for someone to pull me
out of my cavern of despair, to save me from myself.
So I wait.
Email: lister11@hotmail.com
