Why me?

by Greta   Oct 30, 2005


This depression never leaves me,
it stays with me night and day,
through breakfast, lunch and dinner
why does it have to be this way?

I really hate to say it,
but i guess i have no friends,
no one i can talk to,
why can't this just come to an end?

Late at night i wonder
if my life is really worth livin',
if I'm jsut wasting my time,
and if god made a mistake when my life was given.

I'll live the rest of my life,
going through this torture,
but maybe it will end soon...
who knows? I'm not for sure.

    report violation
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Latest Comments

  • 18 years ago

    by Tom Swart

    Nice, I think I could sense your words and their meaning. Keep up the prose and remember to be one with your poem. If it is real you’ll be able to feel it breath and its heart to beat. A poem is a fragment of time, a sliver of emotion trapped in our hearts and set free upon the page. Where it can finally sore and fly with other poems or cry and weep with other broken hearts. Poetry is nothing more than emotion set in motion. Poetry is seldom more than the small fossil that waits within the stone begging for someone to chip it free, and then to wonder how it came to be.

    Keep up your good works. May your poems be a great frame for your emotion’s. May there be peace and love in your life. And may the mark you make upon those hearts around you be filled with joyous fragments of your own heart.

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