The Outsider Looking In

Dear Mr. Not Right,

 

She is not here looking for a fight.

Just simply here to shed some light.

She doesnt have anymore hate, anymore tears.

She's really sick and tired of the wasted years.

She hates the feeling of being trapped in a pen.

Tired of the void created by him.

Why do you have to treat it like it's a storm in your hands?

Every time she shared with you her life's plan.

Too bad she didnt have a clue.

Her heart was warmer than the cold air you blew.

She tried to love an empty soul.

You consumed her like you were a black hole.

Why don't you understand?

You viewed "us" as if mired in quick sand.

This was suppose to be just love.

Not a contest, to rise above.

When she gave you her all,

why did you stall?

She gave you her heart.

Yet she wonders why you never understood art.

Can you not see the masterpiece?

There's so much more beauty to her than just being an ass piece.

You wonder why she picked it back up?

Because she is tired of being stuck in this rut.

That feeling of no place to go,

and the warmth of a home is not something you know.

They tell her that there are plenty of fish in the seas

because she cried so much about getting stung by bees.

She was confused about ever being loved again.

The hurt caused felt through tears of acid rain.

She became so numb from the pain that her dumb eventually faded away.

Her new knowledge of self-love began to pave the way and stay.

You stand here full of confusion and doubt.

While your dirty laundry has been clearly aired out.

You must not think that she will find “the one”?

I bet she would be proud to bare him a son.

That's because she has a lot of love to give.

She always has, for all the years she will live.

This woman is beautiful!

She will find someone most suitable.

Also finding someone that she adores

even though her heart was left riddled with sores.

 

Sincerely yours, 

Mrs. Metaphors

 

P.s. No more messing around.

She's in love with this new sound.

Her heart says, "No more stupid men."

And she will drop you just as fast as she drops this pen.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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