Poem Body
There is no safe place for me
Excepting the corners of my mind
So I retreat there often
In futile attempts to unwind
But there I am bombarded
By a battery of my own thoughts
Imprisoned by dissatisfaction
Which all my life I’ve fought
I need emotional stimulation
The kind that’s hard to buy
The kind society won’t understand
The kind whose absence makes me cry
If I had known when I was conceived
What a circus it would be
I’d have given up right then
And never become “me”
Yet existence finds me here
It finds me bruised and all alone
Unrewarded, undeserving
Under depressive overtones
Comments
oh my...
so many feelings to deal with! after reading this poem, I feel I must digest and come again later to properly comment. it deserves due serious thought.
*love, Cat
O.D. ...
Emotional stimulation is a drug that you can overdose on quite easily.
I understand the deep satisfaction one gets from a good dose.
Sometimes, we don't see the good parts of ourselves, they are overshadowed by
what we need from others. I firmly believe that we are our own worst enemy.
I like this soul-searching, it shows that you are human just like me!
We all have the same malady to some extent, junkies of the mind.
This is a great example of your humbleness and the need for satisfaction with your work.
Don't get too depressed, you will be short-changing yourself.
The only thing I would change about this one, is that you find a bit of comfort in being you. ~ Geez.
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A prisoner of our own thoughts
I agree with Geez...we are our own worst enemy. Sometimes our thoughts can be such a dark place and cause emotional overload. It is hard to see the good that others see in us and I think you have captured the internal struggle well. Good job.