Categories > Original > Poetry

poor thing

by plainwhitetank 0 reviews

Maybe I'm heartless, but I'm sorry; if I hear one more sorry-for-themselfer blaming their wounded, opressed soul on "the others" i'll go crazy.

Category: Poetry - Rating: G - Genres: Parody - Published: 2008-06-27 - Updated: 2008-06-27 - 196 words

0Unrated
She sits at lunchtime all alone
Saving silent reservations
Soft grey eyes downcast
The others pass her by
Not wanting to be seen with her

They don’t understand
They’ll never know
What’s in her heart
What marks her soul

Before you ask, no, she’s not me
I walk on past each day
Not wanting to be seen with her
Lest rumours spread
That I’ve joined the freak brigade

We don’t understand
What could we say
This poor thing,
What could make her seem okay?

I judge her, I am one of them
Who doesn’t understand
Are we all so ignorant?
How can it be
That we are the heartless ones
While she alone is pure

Maybe I’ll find
Some day, somewhere
It’s not our fault
The heartless one was her

Because I have seen her eyes
The silent grey that hides the truth
Her truth, the way she judges us
The opressors of her wounded soul
The blame she throws at the world

It’s easy to blame others
For the way you’ve always felt
It’s their fault, their fault
Always them
Anyone but yourself
Sign up to rate and review this story