Keep to Myself

Keep to Myself

6/16/2018

I often hide behind my doors

And lock them, so no one comes in,

I’m just so shy that I want to cry.

Talking with people seems foreign.

So, I hide in my room with a book in hand

Or when I’m alone I like to sing,

But often I feel out of place

And the feeling starts to sting.

But I hate getting left behind

I hate feeling left out,

Though in conversation, I get pushed aside

And it makes me want to shout!

TO SCREAM at the injustice

And the things I just can’t say.

But instead I stay behind my door

Hoping that it will go away.

Though often it’s a lonely life

Where people pass me bye,

I live happily in my solitude

Without a question or thought of why.

I keep to myself and come out when I want

I do what I wish with nary a thought.

Delicate China Doll

Delicate China Doll
10/10/2015

I am a - delicate- china doll
And you have no idea how - disturbing -
It is to sit on a - cushioned - shelf
And watch - silently the culminating
Effort - of those working - hard
On projects around me,
While - incapable - I perch
Up on high - to see -
And record - in my thoughts - what
Others do - and achieve.
But I am - not - free to try
My own ideas of which I conceive
Of - little projects they - may - seem 
But like an ephemeral cloth - I am fragile,
And though I try my best to hold onto strength,
Using this porcelain body - is futile.
So instead I watch - patiently,
Waiting for the day - when maybe
My body will no longer - of china - be made
And I can finally be - free -
To do as I wish-
And move - as - I - like
And fight - my own - fight
And lose - this perpetual - anguish.

The Trap of Creativity

The Trap of Creativity

4/12/2012

The minds of the Creative,

The minds Trapped most often,

For they are the ones who are Mad.

The Superfluous Storytellers,

The Imaginative Actors,

Most often lose their minds

To the sands of Time.

The Creative get lost,

Trapped in their world,

A world that others

Just can’t understand.

The Creative folk

Are most often Alone

For this gift, they give something grand.

Emily Dickinson,

Walt Whitman,

Who gave something up,

Who lived life Alone.

The Creative give

Their life for the gift,

For in Creativity we are Trapped. 

The Silence

The Silence

Date Unknown

The silence is unbearable,

In the dark and lonely night,

I sit silently bundled up

As I long to turn on the light.

My eyes keep wandering

As I worry in my head,

My fears of the next day

Are what keep me in my bed.

I try to keep it hidden

In the total darkness,

But I want someone to find me,

And show me my true bravery.

The silence is a phantom thief,

Quietly stealing my mind,

I’ll just lie in the darkness,

Hoping for a sign.

I lay screaming in the blackness,

But nobody can hear me,

I can see the search light,

But me, no one can see.

My Plight

My Plight

2/6/08

It hurts to look out,

The crowds cheering,

The fans yelling,

And not be a part of it.

Whatever I do,

I never fit in,

But it’s not like I choose

To uphold this sin.

I sit on the sidelines

While everyone plays,

This aching sadness

Will never go away.

Alone I am

And alone I’ll stay

Because I can’t figure out

What others do every day.

Others make no sense to me

No matter how I watch

Though I try to fit in,

Losing myself is the cost.

So instead I wait for the day

That someone will notice me

And teach me the ways of the world

And how it all should be.  

Hard Day

Hard Day

10/7/10

Misery loves its company

People tend to say.

Through experience I find this true

As I struggle through another day.

I find the more alone I feel

The more I wish sadness on others

Leaving a sour taste in my mouth

This is a feeling I don’t treasure.

Every day I feel more alone

Like I don’t have friend in the world

But the more I sit in silence,

The more I feel as if I’ve been swindled.

No matter how hard I pretend to be alright,

My soul is full of sorrow,

But I push myself ruthlessly forward

And try so hard not to wallow.

Though I often find I want someone

To reach out and give me a hand

Until the day someone notices me

I’ll puff out my chest and withstand. 

Do You Have Any Idea?

Do You Have any Idea?

12/16/10

Do you have any idea what it’s like

To feel like you’re the only one

Who is standing alone in the crowd

Watching the rest of the world have fun?

Do you have any idea what it’s like

To feel so lost and alone,

And while you’re frozen in silence

You also face the unknown?

Do you have any idea what it’s like

To be lost in a labyrinth of dark,

That you aren’t even certain

If the future holds your mark?

At this point in my life I know

The feeling of these things,

And I know chances are I’ll be alone

Until the telephone rings.

So I’m pleading to those who hear me,

The pick up that damn phone

And try to make a connection

So I won’t be so alone.

All Alone

Just a note before I put this poem in here: there are two versions. One I wrote a long time ago and a revised version from recently.

All Alone

Date Unknown

A sky, deep blue,

Splattered with red,

I can still remember

The last words you said.

My love, my life,

To be laid in stone,

He left me here

To be all alone.

All Alone

3/6/2012

The sky, stark blue,

Splattered and stained.

The memories broken,

Your smile, the same.

I still remember

The soft words we said,

A promise, a kiss,

Our lives to be led.

It then, all but shattered,

Your light disappeared,

Silence descended,

You abandoned me here.

My love, my life,

To be laid in stone.

Now I stand here,

I stand all alone.