The Feeling

My angst in words.

Sickly, moaning,

groaning,

zoning in and out.

I’m finished with this feeling

reeling,

please let me out.

Often I wonder

when is the summer

for winter drags

so long.

Often I ponder

when is the ender

for this poem

so strong.

Quietly creeping,

sinking deep

into disrepair.

I turn my head slowly

to tell him a story,

but the expression

I notice

fills me with despair.

Often I wonder

when I am wanted

for people never

seem to see me.

Often I ponder

when is the premise

of my ultimate,

but inevitable

demise.

Oh, how I cried

at the end

it was tragic, yes,

but so satisfying

when all the questions

I asked

were answered.

Oh, how I laughed

at my own

insecurities.

I was young once,

and I believed in love.

Reviews

[PJ Asay]

Pretty good... Why is it so sad...