For all the people I surround myself with.
For everyone else, I don’t exist
So many people can never relate to my thoughts. My words. My ways. My style
There are so many more of ME though. I never knew this until I reached out. Not physically, but with words.
My dearest friends are the ones that I have never seen. It’s the words from others that have opened my eyes. Touched my soul. Been my guides through the best and worst of times.
I forever treasure all of you. So many times I wanted to give up. In a poets world though, something like that is an absolute NO
Yes I do refer to my beloved inspirational poets as faceless.
But
In no way, shape or form are you nameless
Now I am sad. I feel like I am at my wits end
I keep reading.
As much as I hurt. As much as I just want to give up and die
It’s you my friends
The faceless wonders who make it OK to cry and cry
can i have a few faceless wonders... it seems great.. good work
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Neo, how about this? There are so many [much] more of ME Through the 'best and worst' times - cliche (probably started with Charles Dickens in A Tale of Two Cities) The concept of giving up being taboo to poets. But then I think of Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath and John Berryman. Also, the lines seem out of whack. Arbitrary or on purpose? Kaye