Alone

I suck at poetry so be critical.

Saying what you'd rather shout,
Would have its repercussions without a doubt.
But she didn't expect to feel this hollow.
For weeks she felt bitter, now she feels sorrow.
Even if she's near, she's not one of them.
Should have given up instead of trying to pretend,
That it all was fine and they were all friends.

Now she's alone in a world of words,
Where nothing can hurt her and no one is heard.
She always said that's where she'd rather be,
alone in her room crafting feelings of misery.
She give anything to take it back,
Every insult and each attack.

It started with a boy, then it got worse.
Even saying it now, her voice goes hoarse.
By losing the people who got her the most,
The words of solitude pour from her throat,
Onto the page, the misery she wrote,
Now belonged to her.

She called on the page for comfort.
It took more effort to hit these keys,
than it would have to type apologies.
Yet she made herself write this poem.
Thinking maybe it might show them,
How she feels now and how she felt then.
But it might not matter, we're all alone in the end.


 

Reviews

[Ardeth Lane]

Good, good. This is good poetry here actually. This poem obviously states that you DON'T suck at poetry too. I love the line, 'alone in her room crafting feelings of misery' definatly a good poem Alex. *pats head* Good job!