Poetry

How much of the wreckage causation was me?

I wonder who I am, no one minds, if you please.

I see people at night who aren't really there,

They might be a memory, or a deliberate scare.

For some reason they don't come in the daytime for tea,

I think I'd understand them better if I could believe,

That they aren't here to berate me, harm me, or steal,

But still I wait to see the people who aren't real.

I feel the internet brings out the worst in people,

A liar, a snitch, a tattletale, a catfish.

I’ve been called worse, more hateful things.

Those comments are what they are:

Vile, ignorant, stupid.

Those comments are from people,

Who don’t have much of a life of their own,

They are just poor pathetic strangers,

And we will never meet them in real life.

So, you can't put any stock into their words.

They are incompetent,

They are inconsequential,

Certifiable even,

Just words from the dim light of idiots.

I'm a girl trying to survive a life of poverty and abuse.

I'm a girl that has the courage to stand up to the man.

I'm a girl that has a hard time believing in God.

I'm a girl that's learned to believe in herself.

I'm a girl that has the courage to love another woman.

I'm a girl who is learning to make friends.

I'm a girl who still has a lot to learn.

I'm a girl who is trying to be strong.

I'm a girl who wishes she could cry.

I'm a girl that has felt a lot of pain.

I'm a girl with very little love left.

I'm a girl who is looking for some help.

I'm a girl who is afraid of letting go.

I'm a girl with an open mind.

I'm a girl who has a lot of time on her hands.

I'm a girl who just needs to be loved.

Blue Confessional: Poetry and Prose