He went through school
few knew his name.
Those who did,
didn't,
couldn't,
wouldn't care.
The tortured youth
who did not want
his life of constant
ridicule.
Some nights he'd
lay awake in bed
thinking of revenge.
Everyone would know
him then but
that never come to be.
He'd had a few good friends
but they soon left him
alone.
As the years went by
he drifted away
to a place where
he was totally alone
no one ever knew him.
He was nobody's hero.
Steven P O'Connell
December 1995
AUTHOR'S NOTE: A close friend had given me this when he was feeling down over the Christmas break. Since this poem is included in my story, I thought I'd post it here too.
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A Storybook of Poems
PoesiaA collection of poems created from different times of my life. Each poem may depict different emotions and state of thinking while other others may be of a mixture. Some may show the down times and some ups as well as some fictional and some autobio...
