I suck

f**k, I'm starting to feel depressed again.

I have no skills. No talents. No life.
My friends are spending time with an imaginary person. 
I'm having urges to create, Though I don't want to spend time to think this poem out. 
Though I have all the time in the world to.
I'm a waste of space. A waste of resources. 
I laugh at myself and pretend to not care. I make people laugh because it makes me feel worth something. I'm not.
But underneath, I'm not hurting, I'm not crying, I'm not even numb anymore. 
I'm rotting. 

And deep inside of my heart I know that I suck.
When I die, No one should remember me. 

Reviews

[Akash gaikwad]

If you can write about what you feel then how can you suck? You have no talent can't believe that in this poetry I was able to see how you have distance from yourself. To do that you need magic and you have that!!

[Firemay]

You are not worthless, not rotting, you are alive and writing. You have a place in this world even if you havent found it yet. You have a meaning and a purpose. You are someone to remember and dont you ever forget that.

[Phill Oz O'fee]

Up until this review you have had 51 views - now I'm reading and exploring your write - so NOW you will be remembered! That means you don't suck, you are important and you have an abundance of poetic talent just waiting to be unleashed - I suppose that makes you more worthy than you think! And, your poignant piece is a good read! :-)