May 14
Sometimes I go really quiet. Quite the turn around from my usual behaviour. Usually at these times, I feel quite depressed.
I think that my quietness, my secludedness should seem bizarre to those around me. That my sadness is so far from my usual demeanour. A demeanour that I hope would have brought them some happiness. Some joy. Some laughter and fun.
But in my spells of silence, I realise how wrong I am.
That my happiness, my bubbliness, mustn't have impacted them in the slightest, because it's absence isn't causing a reaction. Not even an inquiry as to the loss of that demeanour.
Or maybe I simply don't matter to these people.
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Poetry For The Lost People
Poesía365 observations and comments about society, life and love throughout 2022. Come with me on my journey day by day, as I write what I've always wanted to say. There is no method or planning, just thoughts and perceptions about the way of the world. A...
