This thing This book, which

Sun, 08/10/2014 - 00:54 -- Cgaliza

Location

This thing

This book, which is the memory now

I try to hold it, to keep it

To make it special

By carrying it all over

This ring

Just a ring

Which I try to keep

 

Making memories

That just don’t seem to be as deep

My past, is lacking

The item isn’t great enough

I wither away wishing for it to be enough

 

For someone to be enough on day

Is it selfish? Is it a crime?

...Am I alone?

What an interesting thing to try...

To fix your own problems, that is

Why do I feel the need to fix others?

It’s this thing

This book, this ring

Most of all, it’s not enough

Not enough to make memories

 

Memories I lack, memories that were packed

Who’s to blame?

Why must there be someone to blame?

I’m inferior to what I haven’t got

 

Who are you?

 

I can’t remember your face...

But I think I miss you

Do I know you?

Do you love me?

I love you, somehow

 

But, again I realize...I lie to myself

 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741