Boredom

Sitting at the table

Half asleep

Half awake

It really makes no difference

The invisible vines

Bind me to this chair

Nothing to do

Nothing to think

Nothing to write

There are times when I want to cry

I’m sliding down lower in my chair

Everyone else’s pleasant chattering

Isn’t pleasant to me

We’ve run out of things to talk about

Strained what little we knew about each other

The truth?

I’m sitting in a room full of strangers

I really don’t know any of you

My eyelids droop

Am I tired?

Or just plain bored?

I really don’t know why I’m here

I want to be home

Writing my novel

Singing my songs

Practicing piano

Anything but here

It’s not like I’ve ever been to this type of thing

Before

And I really, really, really

Don’t want to be here

So why am I?

Author's Note

So, I went to a new year's party on New Year's Eve, and let's just say I didn't know anyone. This is how I felt. I may be a little rusty on poetry, since I haven't written in forever, and also because boredom is somewhat hard to express. :)

Reviews

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thats me sitting with the supposedly popular table god i wanted to scream my booty off when the teacher left me there i was like nooooo! so i wrote too thank god!!! very relatable moment i feel bad to admitt that i feel like that with my family 0.0

[Eric Cox]

I think you did nicely on this, very good expressive imagery for boredom in a room full of strangers, I would rather stay home myself too.