*Note: this is something I wrote beforehand, I don't feel so anymore, yet I found this one interesting.
Carbon Monoxide; you can't smell it, but it's there.
Uranium; it's highly productive but toxic.
Copper; it's always either bronze or green.
Either way; I'm here but I'm not.
I wanna talk with them but instead I'm left alone to rot.
I'm a Cancer; don't mistake me for a dancer.
I'm a Mediator, but even I need remediation.
All I've wanted is to not feel so empty and lonely.
Yet I don't understand why I feel so stonely.
I guess I'm just a third wheel in a sea of people;
But why is it I feel so feeble?
I walk in a straight line devoid of emotion;
Wondering why there isn't a commotion.
It's realizations that I had to make;
But to acknowledge them I need to be awake.
So as I get out my sword and shield;
A lunge I expect will make my problems yield.
But with a gilded axe and a heavy mace;
There I fall, back into my brace.
My body feels sore, my mind feels numb;
"Maybe I really am just dumb."
I'm an overwriting, attention-seeking tryhard;
Maybe it's time I'm discard.
Relieve my nescience will ya?
Relive the fact that I'm a pariah.
YOU ARE READING
Psychology Anthology:Optus Jargon
PoetryLife. Life is complex. Life hurts. Life loves. Sometimes you love life. Sometimes you hate it. Sometimes you just want to give it all up. Sometimes you just want to stay in a place, forever. Sometimes it's never. Sometimes it's always. Sometimes you...
