Before The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

I wasn't a genie or some magical being,

I was just a coward, always fleeing.

I wasn't born with a crown over my head,

I was just made this way by the way that I was fed.

I wasn't the devil, but I definitely was not an angel,

I was just a human, never sad, but always coming off as depressed. 

I wasn't the rose that appealed to people's eyes,

I was the thorn that caused a lot of cries. 

I wasn't the gentle rain during that one summer evening,

I was the lightning, almost, but not quite pleasing. 

I might not have been the most perfect human being,

but now, after death, I stand here, reflecting. 

Reviews

[R.E. Ray]

A raw, revealing poem that leaves the reader asking, "How do others see me?" And, "Is my perception the same as others?" Of course, this seems most pressing at the edge of death.

You convey so well humility, self-reflection, and sincerity. I enjoyed this poem. I look forward to seeing more of your work. Nice piece.

[Bhumika Devkota]

Thank you!