Am I Special?

Poem By Jeremy Willson

I've been thinking
Not like me
But like artist, and poetic Jeremy
I've been wondering
What it means to draw and write
I like to draw but I really love to write
Writing short stories, poetry, quotes
I just love it
It's inspiration
It's emotion
It's me
A part of me that wants
It needs to be noticed
I feel like no one knows
Except maybe two people
Special people
One is gone perhaps
But one still cares
They know, but what about everyone else?
Am I nothing to them?
Someone on the internet
Or someone they met and thought they knew
That's who I am
I believe yet I can't help but doubt
I will fade away and nobody will remember me
Who will remember my words except maybe one
One special person all alone
They will remember the real me
And they will weep because someone they love has died
Maybe that's enough yeah?
I hope so
I truly wish I make a lasting memory
And I hope I'm special too

Comments about Am I Special?

There is no comment submitted by members.


Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of WILLSON

Birds Of A Feather....

I miss you, the next time I see you can I hold your hand?
It makes it easier, b/c against the world is where we stand
But against the wall is where I want you to be
The friction, adrenaline, my breathe all you'll be able to see

I've Done Enough

I have plenty of questions
That slowly eat away at me
Like a plague in the water
And all you are is the rain

Over Thinking So I'm Gonna Sit Down

I'm not important am I? My life seems miniscule
Everytime I try and do something I'm met with ridicule
To be honest I don't seem to matter
My life's a shity joke that isn't even met with laughter

Sweather Love

Whenever I'd get nervous
So nervous I'd be freezing cold
I slipped inside my sweater
Where it's nice and warm

Moments Away

If I blink will you disappear?
If I leave would you even care my dear?
I suppose we're both ghosts
We don't belong here, like rebellious quotes

Am I An Abstract Painting In A Gallery Full Of Still Life's, Or Is That Just My Ego?

I am different, I'm not like the others, I'm unique
My writing style is an unknown technique
My soul is a colorful mess
My lips whisper tales of old, though my eyes are colorless