
Originally Posted by
bratling
While I -am- a writer. I'm no poet. I never attempt to rhyme so usually it's an accident if it happens and when it does I feel this pulling need to continue and then feel like my writing sounds like a nursery rhyme and scrap it. Because I usually write from frustration and pain. And I don't want that to sound childish.
However my goood friend Sprout (Know him? He's great!) said I should share my poetry with you fine people. So here's the first I've written in a long time.
Not posative I'd call it poetry though. I'm always my own worst critic.
This poem is called Alienation. I wrote it on the fourteenth of may.
Well I guess I asked for it right?
It was all my choice.
As so many of you just can't stand not to remind me.
Well you were right.
That makes me wrong.
Are you happy?
I don't know what I'm doing.
Except losing my pretty little mind.
It's getting worse and worse.
For me to look behind.
There is no forward.
So here I sit.
Lost and scared.
Exhausted and beat.
I wish my mind would just let me be.
I didn't want to be thrown away.
But again. I made my choice.
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