Blind - Poem by Conor Young
Blind, I stumble through the dreary South London street.
Alone in the darkness of my bitter heart.
All about me grim, cold faces offer no comfort,
To them, I am but a pale acne ridden, teenage waste of space.
A hand brushes mine, have I finally found my lover?
I turn, excited. But I am met only by smog;
Another disappointment to add to the ever growing list.
Will I ever find happiness again?
When I met you, I knew the future.
It was to be long and wonderful;
I was the luckiest man alive, I had you.
But like all good things, I drove you to hating me.
Maybe I am meant to die alone,
In a ditch by the side of lover’s road.
I am a failure at holding on;
The only thing I have left is my love for you.
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