It’s getting late here and I figured I would pull out this wicked old poem so that you can see where my writing began and how it has evolved as well. Do give me your honest opinions! I wrote this poem at the ripe age of fifteen! Nearly eight years ago, so bare with me here. Without further delay, here is the poem.
Horrendous Gossip from the Folks that Dub Themselves Excellent
Throw me out like the trash
Toss me to the ground like you don’t care
Sit me in that dirty dishwater everyday.
I’m just too sick of it to care now.
I know I’m worth less than the trash you throw away
Worth less than the ground you walk on
Worth less than the scum on these dishes.
I’m just nothing to you now.
I’m lucky if I can get past the hurt
Get past the pain
Get past all of your lies.
I’m lucky if I can reach for your hand
Reach out to touch you
Reach out to tell you something.
I’m lucky if you can hear my screams
Hear me calling your name
Hear me wanting you, needing you.
I’m just lucky if you notice me
Past all the dirt and grime
In that dirty dishwater.
There you are, walking past me
My eyes growing with joy
In hopes that you won’t just put me aside.
But it’s too late, you’re already gone
How did you leave so fast?
How did you manage to look directly through me?
I just don’t know.
Why, tell me, why
You still sit me in that dishwater
That’s been there for days, maybe weeks now.
Will I get past my hurt
Get past my pain
Just to touch that beautiful face?
Will I ever get to touch that soft supple hand?
Will you ever feel my touch?
Will I continue to go unnoticed?
When I scream, will you just walk on by
ignoring my desperate cries for you,
as your vile name spills out of my shaking lips?
Stop sitting me to the side
I won’t be put away in that disgusting dishwater
The same water that you use to try to wash away what you’ve done
What you’ve sinned for
What you’ve lied about
What you’ve given away
What you’ve kept on trying to hide.
I won’t be put aside anymore.
I’m pushing myself free of your traps and bondage
of your cruel lies and ignorance.
Why did I put up with you for so long?
Why did I think that this might actually work?
I’m so naive.
I’m a fool
I should have known right from the start that you would break my fragile heart
and let it bleed
Let it shatter on the floor
Like your foolish dishes
In that repulsive dishwater
That you’ll never clean out.
But, that’s okay
It doesn’t matter anymore.
Do you want to know why?
Sorry for the length; I am hoping to put up a more recent piece of poetry so that you can see how my poetry has evolved over the years. Good night everyone! Time to crawl in bed.