Dejected

Don't tell me about sadness or
Torn dejected hearts,
Don't lecture me on how
It feels to be scared all
Your life,
I know what it means to feel
Guilty of the blood that flows in your veins
Or the undeserved beating of your heart,
For if misery were a book
Feel free to call me a scholar.

I am a slaughter-dog for their anguish,
All their fury and innermost hatred is
Unleashed upon my sorry head,
I was born to be cast at their
Feet just to be marched upon
Like a careless insect.

The only love I have ever known
Is one I cannot share with the world,
It is that which I already suffer for
In the darkest corners of my abode,
Just like Paris loved Helen, my love
Is a forbidden gift from the gods.

For this, I am crucified repeatedly by
Rapid clicking, typing fingers,
Bullied like a mute weakling,
Like a coward who would rather die
In silence than cry for help and
Risk shame.

Do not tell me about pain
I live and breathe it.

Reviews

[L_]

Very touching piece. Good work

[Master K-tops]

Thank u very much.