When he was but a boy,
he was different than the rest.
All sorts of problem he caused
it all made him feel...less.
A burden to his parents
and the people around him,
A disappointment he was,
and his future seemed so...grim.
A grown man he was now,
with very little good to others;
He tried to contribute
but he was only a bother.
Little good he did,
felt like an achievement
O such a shame! --thought
he'd done something decent.
Yet to selfishly think he was
shouldering the burdens
of the world--
But in reality,
to the world
a burden, he was.
HBY,
11 December 2020,
8.20pm.
YOU ARE READING
Overflowing
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry I have written throughout the years, whenever my head is overflowing with thoughts and my heart with emotions.
