Another face in the crowd,
Just the average guy.
Making some proud,
As the days go by.

He isn't popular,
He never will be.
Name known is molecular,
Passed over by many.

Strange to the new average,
Old school: he lives by.
Present, but no leverage.
Just a 90's kinda guy.

Talks, but is unheard of,
Silent, yet everyone hears.
No real talents and nothing above.
Words falls on deaf ears.

He's always there for others.
Friendly type; a curse
Doesn't know why he bothers.
Gets nothing in return.

Writes a few poems,
Hidden stories behind few of them,
Chooses he could show em',
They were nursery rhymes then.

Inspiration is through music;
Escape is his instinct.
The reality that makes him sick
Could anyone blame him?

Other kids get drunk,
Plastered, and ****-faced.
While his dad is complaining,
"A 'C' is a bad grade!"

Feeling like crap,
Any words are "excuses"
Wonders why most of others,
Are seen as so clueless

The answers won't be found,
At least that's what he thinks, so.
Tie him up, hands bound.
Naked and put on a comedy show.

He feels that way everyday,
As the society and people change.
Take the kid out of the 90's,
But on the inside, boils rage.

This Is Me

-Doenning