Categories > Original > Poetry
The Deeper Side
2 Reviews'I'm trying to be strong, but it's killing me...'
This was written by my good friend Jimmy Thompson as an assignment for his eight grade language arts class. It is one of the greatest pieces I've ever read, and I feel honored to own his original poem. It is now hanging up on my wall. I am hoping for some reviews to let him know that I'm not the only one who loves his writing. Let me know what you think.
The Deeper Side
~by Jimmy Thompson
All they see is he surface, happy and excited, but honestly, that's not me; I'm unique on the inside. Sometimes it feels like you'd striving to make it through each day. Then, when you look back, you realize that you failed because you strived. Things should be easier and less depressing, but they aren't; crying yourself to sleep because you can't make the mirror happy. I'm trying to be strong but it's killing me; feeling so alone, as if you'd nothing but cold stone, having trouble finding what makes you happy. I don't meet the lines of perfect, so I crumble beneath the surface, and that's when I crack; when all the depression that I've kept bottled up spills out in the most awful ways. It reaches the surface, and I can't hold onto it any longer. But sometimes, when I'm completely alone in the middle of the night, when there is a gentle rain and I'm swinging on the swing, I am completely at peace and happy. At that time, I can just breathe and be myself. The sad part is that it's just me, alone and with no one to share it with. But I guess that's just me, me and my unique, deeper side...
The Deeper Side
~by Jimmy Thompson
All they see is he surface, happy and excited, but honestly, that's not me; I'm unique on the inside. Sometimes it feels like you'd striving to make it through each day. Then, when you look back, you realize that you failed because you strived. Things should be easier and less depressing, but they aren't; crying yourself to sleep because you can't make the mirror happy. I'm trying to be strong but it's killing me; feeling so alone, as if you'd nothing but cold stone, having trouble finding what makes you happy. I don't meet the lines of perfect, so I crumble beneath the surface, and that's when I crack; when all the depression that I've kept bottled up spills out in the most awful ways. It reaches the surface, and I can't hold onto it any longer. But sometimes, when I'm completely alone in the middle of the night, when there is a gentle rain and I'm swinging on the swing, I am completely at peace and happy. At that time, I can just breathe and be myself. The sad part is that it's just me, alone and with no one to share it with. But I guess that's just me, me and my unique, deeper side...
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