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Literature Text
Void
Something small
Just the tiniest thing
A word
A gesture
Or the lack of it
The lack of it
No one sees me
Talks to me
Are friends with me
They pretend
They're chameleons
Claim to be my friend
But when I need them
They're gone
Silent
I weep inside
And put on a happy face
To show the World
They don't know
The real Me
The one who's Black inside
Alone
Something small
Just the tiniest thing
A word
A gesture
Or the lack of it
The lack of it
No one sees me
Talks to me
Are friends with me
They pretend
They're chameleons
Claim to be my friend
But when I need them
They're gone
Silent
I weep inside
And put on a happy face
To show the World
They don't know
The real Me
The one who's Black inside
Alone
I don't really think a lot when I write poetry. I don't go back and edit my poem once they down on paper. They're in-the-moment poems, that I write mostly when I'm in a bad mood.
This was written one night that I felt very betrayed by a good friend. Luckily, it turned out that I was just jumping to conclusions..
This was written one night that I felt very betrayed by a good friend. Luckily, it turned out that I was just jumping to conclusions..
© 2002 - 2024 danzka
Comments1
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I hate that feeling!