Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I know not the cost. The price of your sacrifice, Your murdering your own pride. The pride you may Have had for me at one point. I have never seen it, Never heard it whisper, Except when it felt forced To save some sort of my “feeling” Never felt it tickle the back Of my inexperienced neck, Yet I’ve always yearned for it. This emotion, like all, I neither Understand, nor possess, But I still wish to know its sensation. I wish to know what I see in others. To not fail in your specific eyes. I wish neither to be harsh Nor accusatory, I mean that. You’ve never demanded perfection, You abhor such an idea, And, granted, there are things I have done for which I should be regretful, But again, I am unable To understand the very idea. Ironically, you’ve said I Talk too much, Am too full of emotion, And this such paradox, I’ve always kept secret. Sometimes I wish to Know you better, To understand more, To learn your way of thought, A strain, an algorithm I so respect. However, it exists somewhere, Deep inside an earnest feeling, On subject of your better well-being, I sometimes wish You didn't have to know me at all.
0
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
Downfall.
I know not the cost. The price of your sacrifice, Your murdering your own pride. The pride you may Have had for me at one point. I have never seen it, Never heard it whisper, Except when it felt forced To save some sort of my “feeling” Never felt it tickle the back Of my inexperienced neck, Yet I’ve always yearned for it. This emotion, like all, I neither Understand, nor possess, But I still wish to know its sensation. I wish to know what I see in others. To not fail in your specific eyes. I wish neither to be harsh Nor accusatory, I mean that. You’ve never demanded perfection, You abhor such an idea, And, granted, there are things I have done for which I should be regretful, But again, I am unable To understand the very idea. Ironically, you’ve said I Talk too much, Am too full of emotion, And this such paradox, I’ve always kept secret. Sometimes I wish to Know you better, To understand more, To learn your way of thought, A strain, an algorithm I so respect. However, it exists somewhere, Deep inside an earnest feeling, On subject of your better well-being, I sometimes wish You didn't have to know me at all.
andrew-p-marheine
Written by
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem