Echoes of Sorrow: A Collection of Poignant Poetry

part 14: a poet's silent lament

~brand new city-mitski~

Oh to be pretty, oh to be loved,
Oh to be someone's first love, so coveted,
But I have never been the one,
Always pretty, but never the prettiest under the sun.

Always a choice, but never chosen,
Always a lover, but never loved in return,
A part of me will always wonder,
To be the one who sets hearts asunder.

To be written by a writer's hand,
For once to be the poem and not the poet grand,
To be the muse, the inspiration divine,
To be the one that captures hearts and minds.

But alas, that fate was never mine to claim,
I'll linger in the shadows, unknown to fame,
Yet in my heart, a gentle ache will reside,
For the love I never had, the echoes that died.

Oh to be pretty, oh to be loved,
Oh to be someone's first love, so beloved,
But in my own way, I'll continue to shine,
A silent poet, weaving words, one line at a time.