Optional;
A thing I always ran from,
But I can't run forever.
I get tired, I'm always tired.
And that's when I see it.
I'm optional.
I'm not a first pick, or even the second.
I'm not the one people go for.
I'm not mandatory or important.
When I walk into the room I am nothing but I quick glance.
An absent thought.
I am nothing.
My name is forgotten and my face is lore among the shelves of invisible people.
Invisible to themselves and to the ones they love.
I can walk these empty halls and watch the last man on earth walk past me.
I can sit in crowded cafeterias alone.
I can watch couples rejoice happily and still bear being the only one,
Because cute guys only like pretty girls,
And I'm nothing short of a disaster.
I'm nothing.
Invisible.
Optional.
I'm optional.
YOU ARE READING
Why Don't I Write You A Poem
PoesíaI write poetry all the time to an empty audience. I don't expect posting it here to be any different but at least I'm putting my work out there.
