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Rated: E · Poetry · Romance/Love · #1346309
A Poem about feeling like the only one who's not loved.
I am here,
all alone sitting,
in my chair,
by the PC.

I am waiting,
and writing,
and typing.
But nothing comes up to my head.

I look around,
look what I've found?
Everyone's got a pair,
except poor old me, nobody wants to share?

While I type,
everyone kisses,
and hugs,
and loves.

While I am all alone,
typing,
writing,
reciting.

Every key I touch,
is like a knife stabbing me,
in my precious heart,
perforating my chest and lungs.

I cannot breathe,
I cannot feel,
I cannot do anything more,
I can just look and wait.

Every day,
every second of my life,
is another inch,
the knife penetrates me.

My heart, it aches,
of being broken so many times.
of loving so many times,
but not being loved back.

I wait,
and type,
and write,
but nothing comes to my head.

I love this girl,
or do I love the other?
I love none yet I love all.

I wouldn't mind,
one or the other,
or even another one,
which loved me at all.

But love requires communication,
and that I do not possess,
I can't talk to her,
I cannot jest.

I am messed,
messed up I am,
I live in a state of fear,
'cause I cannot control who I am.

The attitudes of people,
towards me I know not,
I am someone whom,
I have forgot.

Am I serious?
Or am I funny?
Or am I both?
Is that even possible?

But does she like it?
One or another?
Am I that good?
Or am I that bad?

Am I that hostile?
Or am I too friendly?
Or is my self-esteem too low?
But don't you see?
Only you can help it grow.

Do you like me,
and then I shrug it off,
If I did, then tell me off,
'cause right now, I'm capable of loving anyone.

I am all alone,
by the PC,
sitting,
writing,
typing,
reciting,
rhyming the lines of my poem.

I hope you have enjoyed,
and I hope you have laughed,
of this poor old me,
without a love,
without a girl,
a second half, a hand to grab to.

I hope you have fun,
I hope you and your partner have fun,
I hope you enjoy your lives.
But most of all, I hope.

That someone loves me,
and that I don't need to sit here,
writing,
typing,
reciting,
crying.

Waiting for someone to love me...
© Copyright 2007 Mattos da Costa (wisegod at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1346309-Stabbed