Conor Young

Rookie (02/06/93 / London)

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.

Comments about Blind by Conor Young

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, September 1, 2010

[Report Error]