You have the words;
Why don't you speak to us?
You have a voice;
Why don't you sing to us?
Those are the questions I'm faced with
Every day.
You're not good enough;
Why do you try so hard?
You're not worth much;
Why would they think you are?
Those are the thoughts in my mind
That never seem to fade.
Don't let
Anyone in,
Or you'll never find your way out.
My songs are diary entries
Of fantasies
And all my insecurities.
I'm used to being alone
In my corner
Trapped in my daydreams.
It's delusional for me to think
That someone could be
Thinking of me,
And I'm always afraid
They'll use my vulnerabilities
Against me.
What's the use of opening up
When no one seems to care at all?
Invisible in the light or dark,
I don't really matter at all.
11.09.18
YOU ARE READING
In the Wee Small Hours
PoetryLittle thoughts in prose, song and poetry. (Previously titled 'Raconteur') Copyright © 2018 by @janeoswyn. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photoc...
