Wednesday, February 27, 2008

At a low point

(Originally composed July 2, 2007)

I scribbled the following poem at a particularly horrid moment last week. I'm definitely not a poet, but I couldn't help this one. Note to readers: I am generally not so low but stoicism didn't help this time.

Stand Up

Will anyone ever stand up for me?
Will anyone ever stand up when I'm down
And announce
How dare you
How can you speak like that to her
Who do you think you are
Do you know all the good that she has done
Will there ever be a time when someone will stand up
When I feel weak
Will anyone ever accept me exactly how I am
Without any criticism
Will anyone ever stand up for me the way I stand up for others
Has all the good I've done gone to waste like it never happened
How can it be
That I work so hard and it doesn't mean a thing
Does it mean anything when I hurt
It hurts, it hurts
I feel the burdens
They crush my shoulders
And I don't say a thing
But it hurts when no one sees it
And it hurts when no one appreciates it
It hurts when no one stands up for me when I'm down
I hurt
And I wish that I were asleep in the earth
Because that would be better than this neverending weight and the whippings
Who will lift me when I'm falling
Who will do it
Because nobody does it
Not a single person
Nobody cares
Not a single person

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