Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2015
I catch myself getting progressively more angry.
I safely yell at things that don't give 1 iota of emotion in response.
I watch myself getting mad at TV's, cars, computers, even light bulbs!
Most days I am able to 'hang tough' primarily through my own strength,
but partly because it is expected of me.
I've never asked to be anyone's hero
and I certainly know first hand
what a fraud I would be
to ever claim such status when so how many times,
far more than I will ever let on,
I have found myself curled up in the fetal position SCREAMING guttural SCREAMS primal.
I no longer ask the glib question of "Why me?",
when I know the true question is
why not me??
Once I had led a life of figuratively being spoon fed from utensils made of silver,
thriving on that bliss that does indeed come from an existence of ignorance.
Maybe why not me
balances the scales.
Sept. 26 2013 will be the 5 year anniversary that my sweet little boy seemingly fell off the face of the planet.
It hurts so bad I could just scream. SCREAM!

And I do.
At technology.
I scream at my TV with it's crackly surround sound speakers that are going out,
I scream at my car when strange warning icons flash on the dashboard,
I scream when the florescent light bulbs through out my house flicker
and burn out
and S C R E A M E D !!!!! at my computer when in the middle of typing this diatribe
the browser crashes
Lynda Kerby
Written by
Lynda Kerby  Kansas
(Kansas)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems