How it would feel.

The time had come.

My life was done.

No one cared.

Every one left.

 

They all said they loved.

They all said they knew,

How it felt,

To be lost, broken, and abused.

 

It didn't matter to them,

If I was lost, scared, or afraid.

It didn't matter to them

If I disappeared.

 

Soon it would be to late.

The bottle of pills was already gone.

My eyelids were drooping,

My heart was slowing.

 

My hands were cold,

But I didn't care.

Anyone would soon find me,

Sleeping alone.

 

Then they would know,

How it would feel,

To be lost, broken, and abused.

It wouldn't matter if I disappeared.

 

I know I said that I loved,

That I knew,

How every one felt,

When they knew I was lost, broken and abused.

Reviews

[Alexander Emberson]

Dark stuff. You had some rhymes in and around, but I don't think they were intentional since much of the poem didn't rhyme. My only concern is the fifth stanza, final line, "Sleeping alone." I assume this is a metaphor for death, but at least to me, sleeping implies being able to wake up... ugh, I'm reading into this too much. I'm just going to leave it there. Good stuff, keep it up!