Web of Loneliness Poems

Poems of the Lonely

Tag Archives: pathetic

House of Mirrors

She spends her days
In a house of mirrors.
Each image is real, yet
Each is false.
Each image is
Reflected into
Her frightened eyes
By a mirror, warped
And twisted, by
Past beliefs that are not,
And never were,
True.

She can’t see her own
Wondrous Light
Beauty and,
Immeasurable
Worth,
Something we each possess
As human beings,
To shine on each other,
And light up our world.
These mirrors she constructed
Constantly and consistently
Lie to her, and she only sees a
Pathetic, worthless failure
In them.

Where might she find
A true reflection
Of herself in this
House of false reflections?
Perhaps in
The eyes of those who
Care about her, and
Love her?
There she might glimpse the truth
About her real, whole self.
A truth she
Dares not discover,
For fear that it will just be
A confirmation of
What she already knows:

That she is an unlovable monster
With nothing of any value
In herself
To offer anyone!

Why is it so much easier for many of us,
Like her,
To live with the certainty of painful lies,
And punish ourselves for what we are not,
Than risk the uncertainty of
Glimpsing the unknown truths
About our unknowable selves?

Advertisements

Unheard Last Words

As I stair at the ceiling when sitting at home

Wishing I had someone to talk to but I’m alone.

Nobody can hear me when I bawl

And nobody hears my distant call.

 

I don’t understand what as happened to me,

Why do I feel so lost and empty?

I am a tool, a machine, I have no soul.

There’s something missing inside I don’t feel whole.

 

Will I be lonely for the rest of my life?

Will I ever have kids a house and a wife?

Shall I do the deed and pick up that knife?

Press against myself with a subtle slice?

Or reflect on my health and maybe think twice?

Will there be someone to stop me and give advice?

 

These questions I ask but nobody can hear,

As the world would remain if I disappear.

I wallow in self pity and cry my heart out,

Knowing I am not loved without any doubt.

 

I have heard there is nothing more pathetic than a cry for help

You either do or you don’t want to kill yourself

This makes me pathetic as well as a weirdo,

I guess it is time for me to go

 

I’ve disappointed my father and that’s what hurts most.

So it is now time to turn to a ghost.

However souls are ghost so I wont be one,

The only thing I will be is gone.

 

by E