I become my own island,
Surrounded by loneliness,
Behold passing people,
Accept hopelessness,
She’d rather not endure
Unkindness from our peers,
So she strayed away from me,
Now I’m standing here ...
Inferior,
She won’t even speak to me,
Inferior,
She won’t even think of me,
Rage against myself,
Curse the caste that I was born into
Angry with the world,
Bruising my fists against the system, too
Another island drifts,
Next to me, it appears
I’m no longer alone
There’ll be no more tears
But she wants something more:
Someone bearing great renown,
I can’t quell her lust for,
Almighty Favor’s crown,
Not good enough,
Devoid of all the clout she craved,
Though I was fine
But my contentment won’t make her behave.
... Now I’m by myself,
Cursing the state I’ve found myself inside,
I stand against them all,
And struggle with their frequent need to climb
YOU ARE READING
Romantically Incorrect
PoesíaBorn, raised, and currently living in Detroit, Michigan, Morgan Coby is a combination of many different things around him: the gritty realities of the city where he dwells, and the wondrous idealism from the fictional worlds of stories, cartoons, an...
