ALK (4/6/87 / Bath)


I'm such a failure.
I cant get nothing right.
My hart is clumsy and tight.
I mess everything up.
And get it all so very wrong.
Even a simple thing like killing myself.
I get wrong.
What the hell is it with me.
I feel as hollow as a tree.
I wish I had wings to flee.
Everything I do and all that I am is wrong.
It pounds in my head like a gong.
I am nothing and never will be.
For I am me and noone seems to be there.
For its my own fualt any way.
Becuase I am me.

User Rating: 4,0 / 5 ( 1 votes ) 1

Comments (1)

... ouch... ouch... Ouch... OUCH! O.K., I'll dropp anchor on the self-depreciation and ill directed / misplaced issues related to self-esteem, as regards to whomever the particular 'I' in your poem may happen to be in fact. I'll even forgo any comment apropos spelling error, as there 'ain't nobody worse than me' in that category (one which I shamefully 'own', and would be quite obvious, were it not for this machines 'spell-check' function) . I will say that this emotionally intense (and painful) poem 'whacked me smack on the side of my head with a karmic baseball bat', and set off bells and whistles with that cherished part of my Self that comprises a personal and professional gift called 'empathy'. Now, that's not particularly good for me, but, over the years I've learned to make 'adjustments' and 'allowances'. It IS particularly good for you as it proves that you've the power to evoke responses via your poetry. In that sense - Very Good Poem.