Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
How can you expect someone to love you - when you are not the person they wanted? When all you are is a substitute; filling a vacancy left open by the person they wish to be with. How can you be enough to a person who is never impressed by any of your efforts? A person who sees all your expressions of love, as inadequate coming from you? How can you be appreciated by a person who sees your eccentricities as flaws? A person who attempts to appropriate anything, and everything unique about you. How can you be worth meaning a great deal to a person who sees no value in you? A person who is prejudicial without remorse. How can you be worth loving when you struggle to love yourself? When life has flagellated your self-esteem; when depression has left you void of any jubilation, and left you with an overwhelming emptiness and nights of crying-induced sleep? At my best, the love I give is not reciprocated. The person I am is not celebrated. The emptiness within me seeks solace in recluse.
0
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 4:02 PM UTC
At My Best.
How can you expect someone to love you - when you are not the person they wanted? When all you are is a substitute; filling a vacancy left open by the person they wish to be with. How can you be enough to a person who is never impressed by any of your efforts? A person who sees all your expressions of love, as inadequate coming from you? How can you be appreciated by a person who sees your eccentricities as flaws? A person who attempts to appropriate anything, and everything unique about you. How can you be worth meaning a great deal to a person who sees no value in you? A person who is prejudicial without remorse. How can you be worth loving when you struggle to love yourself? When life has flagellated your self-esteem; when depression has left you void of any jubilation, and left you with an overwhelming emptiness and nights of crying-induced sleep? At my best, the love I give is not reciprocated. The person I am is not celebrated. The emptiness within me seeks solace in recluse.
sixolile
Written by
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 4:02 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem