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Aug 8
I wonder where,
Where I call home.
I’m uncomfortable with others,
With their ersatz shallow ways,
Except those few sweet few.
I prefer most my own company
Away from the many,
The contradictions, the confusion, the overload of senses.
Its so much easier that way.
No worry.  
Be myself,
Without fear
Of treading on eggshells
Lest I put my foot in it,
once again,
Saying wrong things,
Being judged,
Being criticised.
Just for being.

But I’m lonely too,
That lack of connection,
To others
and myself.
I pretend.
I keep busy.
I have no time to feel.
I pass absently
And joylessly
through a life
Of empty
Disconnection,
Discombobulation,
With a heavy weight upon my back.
Tis sad.
Tis a waste.
Till a fall from sweet grace.
From what we are sent here to do.
Spread love.
Be love.
Love all.
Love you.
Love me.
This is an ok poem, not great I feel, though it’s sentiments were true at that time. However, being new to poetry I committed to share my journey with you fellow poets and explorers of the truth.
This was my third ever poem, and my first attempt into something more personal than the woods.
My first version was very unpersonalised. I didn’t want to “own” my thoughts and feelings. It’s slightly more personalised now, but still has a way to go. I am leaving it here as is as I feel it’s a starting point as to what comes later..... It is imperfect. And that’s ok Now there’s an admission!
Written by
SiouxF  50/F/England
(50/F/England)   
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