self-esteem. . .

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  • Sadness

    self-esteem. . .

    What is it about me that attract such ugly people?"
    I cannot put my finger on what it is
    All of the insecurities that I thought were gone are not vanquished
    But hidden in a place that I thought that I could never get to
    A place that resurfaces even in the face of the lies that I tell to myself
    The lies that yes I’m okay
    That yes I do not need anyone
    The lies that others are unimportant
    The lies that I do not need nor do I want friends
    The lies that the beauty that I so desperately long for doesn’t have to be validated by anyone or anything else but my
    broken mirror
    The lies that there is nothing really wrong with me
    That there is no problem so great within me that God alone can and won’t fix The lies that I am flawless, sleeping and breathing and livin underneath a tough exterior that is so easily broken...
    I am water
    and the others can see right through me effortlessly
    who did I possibly think that I was fooling?
    I guess...
    Only myself

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    DeepEclipse commented on self-esteem. . .

    03-24-2011

    "I am water and the others can see right through me effortlessly: - Nice. This whole piece easily cuts through its own soul sharply. Exposing the bloody bits to wide open eyes. I would like to believe that this strong sense of self examination would only result in growth from it. But you wrote it for your reasons so you will take with it what you will. Well written piece of incredible depth. Showing perhaps something that has been on the mind for quite a time...
    Reply to Comment

    blvdobd2009

    03/24/2011

    Gosh I just love your comments, because you really understand my poetry, not really the poem is what I write for people to get because you know we all interpret poetry differently, but I want so badly for people to feel me and my emotions. Most times when I am done I just sit and think on how to make myself better, and it is faithful commenters like you who always keep me striving!

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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