Sometimes I wish I wasn't here,
I want to be part of a bigger picture.
I've always wanted my name up in lights,
And about a hundred thousand people to know who I am.
But only my friends seem to notice me,
So I doubt I'll ever be famous one day.
I'll never have my words in a book,
And I'll never have myself on a front page,
Of some big name magazine,
Or in the movies end credits.
So I'll give up that dream of mine.
What difference does it make,
Since all of my other dreams have died already.
I'll die someday,
And I'll be unremembered.
No one will care to know who I am,
Or who I was,
Because I'll never leave a legacy behind.
Nobody but my friends will know my poetry,
Once they're gone,
It'll all be just a piece of a forgotten past.
YOU ARE READING
A Cry For Help
PoetryAll of my "Wonderful" poems, based around suicide and other ideologically sensitive topics, as well as poems about depression, anxiety, and self doubt.
