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Keiri Aug 2019
Everybody tells you from the moment you're born.
When you grow up, do what you're best at.
But honestly, I could've sworn.
That I never intended to be a brat.

Everybody tells you to keep your dreams real.
To not expect fairytales to be true.
So I always made it a big deal.
To push my dream and pull me through.

Everybody tells you to live your dream.
The bodies I walked over.
Even though I heard them scream.
I closed my ears, I wasn't sober.

Everybody tells you to believe in what you can do.
But what fruits could I ever bring?
What have I ever done for you?
All I could ever be is dissapointing.
I am only a dissapointment :/
Dave Zucker Mar 2013
You Lied.  You used me.
Till there was Nothing More.
Pushed me away for Another.
Same thing you did before.
You think I'm an idiot,
I think you're a *****.
You won't find my kindness
waiting for you anymore.

You can't even be honest with me,
Every time you speak you Lie.
You've finally pushed me too far.
I wish you'd be gone, just go die.
You're not even worth the effort.
this time I won't have to get high.
To forget what you meant to me,
Now just disappointment, a sigh.

You used to be so beautiful,
you were flawless in my eyes.
Yet you used me, Lied to me,
Lead me on, and left to **** other guys.
You're too self centered,
too spoiled.  So it's no surprise.
You'll never have a working relationship.
Your greedy ***** side is your demise.

In the end, I'm shocked.
It doesn't hurt, there's no pain.
You've shown who you are,
No more of your emotional drain.
No more arguments, no more fights.
No more trying so hard for something so vain.
You're not the woman I fell in love with.
You're just someone who toys with my brain.

No more anger. No more pain.
Just disappointment, a little numb.
Taking a step back, looking hard.
Asking "How was I just so Dumb?"
They were all right about you, yea.
Why was I trying so hard for some ***?
The feelings just gone now.
The emotions left quite glum.

I could be angry.  Immature.
Call you white trash.  A *****.  A ***.  
But it's just not worth it anymore.
I wish you the best, hope you're happy, so....
I want you gone.  For good.
After you pay what you owe.
Because now we can Never be friends.
How you used me was too low a blow.
It's sad when some people are too busy focusing on themselves to ever take notice of the damage they do to other peoples lives, especially when other people care so much.  Sad how some people are too self centered in what they want for themselves.
Kelle Feb 2012
They say where ever your birthmark is located on your body
Is where you were stabbed, shot, hung or whatever other means
Of death are plausible in your past life.

I have come to the conclusion
That I am not human.
I do not have a birthmark anywhere on my body
A patch of pigmented skin different from the rest
This is both englightening and very very very dissapointing

This means there was never a low blow to my calf, a karate chop at my neck, a gunshot to my ankle
Nothing to symbolize that I once maybe had another life.

A life where I was the cracks in the sidwalk
or the wind gently stirring up chaos on days when I just **** felt like being noticed
or maybe i lived out my seven year old dreams of becoming the sixth member of the Spice Girls
or even an NSYNC groupie

I will never know.
I never emerged from my mothers womb
With a scar baring my worth

I was never blessed with a kiss from an angel
As other mothers told their children

I was never born with a birthmark,
and while this is perfectly natural.
I am very dissapointed, beacause maybe I was never given a chance.

Maybe I was crushed before I entered the world
A womb filled with disgust and hatred

Maybe I preferred to stay as the cracks in the concrete or the wind
Because I'd rather deal with the simple casualities of life rather than the mess humans tend to create

Maybe I was never given a second chance because
I never made something of myself here first.

Or just maybe there is a possiblity that I'm immortal
and if that's the case.
You are all invited to my 106th birthday party.
Kara Jean Jun 2016
Her
She's the women
You imagined
Stepford wife
She sit's with Hands clasped tightly
Courtney Loves drunken sister
Resonates within
Her wilted box keeps disintegrating
Her barricades
Useless
Soaking filth from the ground
She would cry
Tears dry
Salt is only producing
She's a mist uncontrolled
Wild growing daisy
Sitting in a ticky tack
Garden
She sees freedom
Fake
Placed in the deserts hot sun
Thirsty
Last drink
Now haunts
Suited up in her dress
She carries on
Fragmented
Dissapointing denial
don´t make her love you
if you are going to come and go,´

don´t tell her you´ll protect her
just to end up letting her burn,

don´t make her trust you
if you arent planning on answering her calls,

don´t pretend you understand her
just to get under her skin,

don´t make her show you her demons
if you aren´t brave enough to fight them,

don´t make her fell she is essential
if you are going to walk away,

don´t call to say goodnight everyday
if you want her to sleep when you forget,

don´t make her give you everything just to leave her empty-handed,

don´t make her believe you care
if you plan on dissapointing her,

Don´t make her yours
if you aren´t going to be hers´

Dont make her your bestfriend
if you don´t plan loving her ´till the end
Poem dedicated to the friends I lost along the way and to my fear of abbandonment.
Zulu Samperfas Jun 2013
Oh how I'd love that
and from a San Francisco organization no less
a month in the Santa Cruz mountains, no less
the most liberal city in America no less
and last year's winner has his picture displayed
and it is not innovative or interesting or shocking but all too predictable
Like something I saw how long now has it been?  twenty five years ago...
how many times have I seen this picture
a white guy, looking very much the suffering, creating artiste
handsome, like an actor, but not an actor, a creator of meaning
of art, and he can't smile, but looks away from the camera
mimicking an ad for J. Crew
it's amazing how only white men can write about the important things in the world
and the background, how many times before have I seen it
a graffiti sprinkled nowhere in an urban jungle
somewhere where preppy white guys never go
street art, street communication created by people
who don't see this concrete as an exotic backdrop for their egoistic posing
but as a part of their lives, as part of their meaning, their world
and he stands there, in front of it,
Mr. Screenwriter, the gulf of culture separating him from that background
spans the entire country, or an entire universe
but the implication of the picture is: he is home here
this is who he is and he can emcompass everything, since white men
as we know, have a magic ability to understand and synthesize everyone
all genders, all races, all religions
the rest of us are merely stuck in our own myopic little worlds
of gender, race, socio-economic status
but these spanner of time and space and human difference, they can be anyone
they can understand and represent anyone
So I look at the picture
and think, I could apply, but I'm busy during the blissful month of the residency
but how dissapointing, that I feel looking at this picture, now online of course
that it is the same picture that I looked at over twenty five years ago
pinned to a film school wall
in Los Angeles, in New York, in those edgy more conservative places
and it is the same guy.  the white screenwriter artist who will write about me
and others and it will be a lie
and we are excluded.  all the rest of the human race.
but what he writes will be exalted as truth
when I know, that no matter how time he spends wandering
the foriegn worlds of ghettos and genders
the one thing he knows, the only thing he knows how to write about is
white guys, because he is no superhuman
he is like us.  He will write about white guys and there will be
more films about white guys, who are supposed to represent all of us
but they don't, because they are only human,
and can only represent themselves.
Lynsey-Nova Oct 2014
im sorry i am not my sister
im sorry im not strong
like you
im sorry i am in pain and sad
all the time
im sorry i cant breath
im sorry that you hate me
that i've ruined your life
im sorry i dropped out of school
and broke all your plans
im sorry i am not the one you thought
id be in the end
im sorry that i didnt give up my
dreams for you
im sorry that i didnt take care of you for years
that i left and didnt come back
im sorry you had to rely on others
im sorry im dissapointing
im sorry ive broke your heart
im sorry i followed my dreams and left you alone
but mostly im sorry i was born
beacuse i did take care of you
i did save your life
i never asked for anything this just
isnt right
i never told you no i never rose
my voice i gave you everything i never had
a choice
i never followed all my dreams never
got out of this town
and now ill rot here inside
beacuse you've broken me down
so thank you for all your love that
burned right through my soul
thank you and i love you
i dont remember why though
Anna Dunn Aug 2011
For the past five years I've hidden my pain
Only to let tear drops fall in my room
Where I would sit and cry
And cry
And cry
This day was so **** dissapointing
I was fooled to believe there was to be a change
Now everything's the same
Bottled up energy ready to explode
It's a lot of sorrow
A lot of misery
Reaching for the stars but not even touching a cloud
And finally today I just let it all go
And I cried and cried and cried......
Because for so long I have tried and tried and tried to fit in here
But I can't
So I will try
Try
Try
I'm making a change
I'm taking control
Hopefully my five years in a dark cloud are over. Five years of never being truly happy.
But I have to do something
So I will always try.....
And.... Try
And..... Try
Maybe instead of a cry...
And cry.....
And cry........
And cry .....
And cry........
And cry .......
I will touch the sky
qtrz Apr 2014
To my best friend:
Thank you, for resisting the constant urge to tell me that I'm stupid to keep choosing him.
I'm sorry, for you always had to see me at my worst; When I'm crying hysterically as my heart is being carved out.

To my brain:
Thank you, for navigating me to the right path- for always reminding me that he's toxic.
I'm sorry for being oblivious to the warnings and unceasingly dissapointing you.

To my heart:
Thank you, for being strong. You still continue to beat, allowing me to live another day, despite the scars inflicted on you.
Im sorry, as aforementioned, you're the victim of my actions. You were shattered to pieces, stabbed by a knife, left with wounds that no amount of time could heal.

To you, the boy who made a large impact in my life:
Thank you, for instilling strength in me, albeit being my biggest weakness. It is because of you that I know, I will not be as foolish. Afterall, what doesn't **** you makes you stronger.
I'm sorry, because you will never find someone who gives a **** about you as much as I do. And when you do realise that, it will be too late- she is already gone.
Haley Valentine Feb 2011
A sea of waving green and grey
Bows and bends in our path
In warmth and comfort we'll catch disease
One so sweet we'll let it rage

To the unknown holes beneath our feet
We'll cast insecurities
And to the wall of white above
We'll go, looking for the sunrise

I'll bet my frozen toes on love again
You sing me chopped up ballads
And throw material goods into the distance
Because, right now, we're all we need

We're a tangled mess of underfed limbs
Eyes hidden, smiles wide
We've heard the words many times
But there's no place I'd rather be

A failed attempt, dissapointing ending
But I've yet to be let down in you
Your head on my chest, listen to the heartbeats
Your own are toomuch to ignore

Here in this last place untouched by us
In your eyes I see flowers bloom
You touch my lips, the heavens tremble
For you, I'd give anything
Written 5/24/2008
Zulu Samperfas Jun 2013
I sat there in his office, for our first formal meeting and
I thought: what a strange little man
and I thought: thoughts are private, he can't know
but I've no poker face, so as I watched him look at me silently
I was eyeing him like a stained onion under a microscope
Look at the cell wall, the keys dangling from the faded Dockers from 1982
the pale hands with the small sausage fingers
everyone talked about his hands and those small fingers
that would gesticulate and pontificate and annunciate his power over us
He walked from his desk to the table, and it seemed like it took ten steps
and he became smaller with every stride, in the faded wrinkled shirt, made of flannel
like a used bed sheet
there is the nucleus, the papers in his hand I thought and his faded green eyes darted
over at me, and he knew, he could feel it, he knew I thought he was a dork
At last he settled down at the table and I joined him and the sausage fingers
of power shuffled through my evaluations, which were good
before he had that grudge, nursed over the summer
before he let it sink in that he was never good enough in my eyes
that he was always dissapointing me
I would walk to him, like trying to buy good organic food at a seven eleven
and wondering why every time, it wasn't there
He knew he couldn't do anything right in my eyes
He wasn't up to my challenge
I didn't know that he knew
Ginger Feb 2018
When you finally think you found the one,
Just to find out you were wrong,
you are left with nothing but a broken heart,
but no matter what you try to stay as strong,
even when all you want to do is give up,
there will always be someone to love you,
Just stay strong and keep fighting
Jay Jimenez Jan 2011
I'd like to say that I'am a warm fuzzy person
I'd like to say that this torture of waking up does'nt make me sick
I'd like to say that the sun makes me smile.
These would be lies
the dark amuses me
I enjoy dissapointing people
I get a kick out of manipulating
and controlling your thoughts and actions
I compromise your God
the sloth slow moving and never quick enough to fill my desires.
If the day would come where we meet face to face
I'd ask him to send me to purgatory where I belong
because I know I dont deserve him.
I pray in anger
I pray to him to fullfill my wants
I pray to him to make me wealthy
This is not proper prayer
This is not the way to talk to God they say.
The life that was ment for me
was of his making was it not
So why does he make me suffer with this talent of making people sick
to making people fear
to me always being in need of the next high
to me destroying, rebuilding, and destroying again?
Why does he send me in this tail spin
only to crash and burn
to have the demons of hell rip my limbs each evening?
Because of the secrets I hide from God and Others eyes
I toss and turn hoping my prayers will be answered
so I can be the person I was before
so I can be warm and fuzzy again
but the secrets I hide are not seen by your or Gods eyes
so How do I release these secrets without opening the eyes
of the world to my celler door?
Where the secrets have been waiting to see a light and to be freed to the upstairs living quarters to be with the rest of the family.
To be seen by your and Gods Eyes
Daan Jun 2013
A small mouse is known for scaring
the elephant she has not even met.
Capturing a mouse seems so easy,
it seems easier than capturing an elephant

That's where you're wrong. The mass
wants to play guitar, or something bass.
Playing a blues harp is not hard enough.
It's not impressive, but oh so rich of flow

I've tried it, playing, capturing, caring
without dissapointing. Times are tough
when you cannot pay someone elses debt
Writing about that mouse can be cheesy.

Besides all that, that all is irrelevant.
If I never capture her, I want her to know
...
I've tried to give you many names but until this moment you still haven't accepted any of them
I'm trying to form a picture but you keep me from finishing it.
When will I finally have a name that fills my heart with joy by only saying it or thinking it.
I can't keep waiting for it silently
I have to hunt and capture a name and make it rightfully mine.

Revisited, I don't need hunting.
Akta Agarwal Mar 2021
I desperately went for cycle ride with my brother,
But am afraid of cycling and afraid of dissapointing my brother,
It's hard to concentrate on pedal as well as road,
Am afraid of hurting myself,
But it's a beautiful experience with a mixture of fear, happiness and nervousness,
But my brother is always there to teach me calmly, When I started shivering in fear he assured me of his presence,
And again I felt secure,
Though I fell down many times but he was there to console me,
It's really hard to ride a cycle that's I thought
But because of my brother I felt it too easy to ride,
When after practicing I started riding perfectly I felt like am flying in the air,
With the help of my superhero my brother I had learn to ride cycle.
Cycle ride with brother
The Red Woman May 2019
i feel so bad
and i don't know how to change it
i write
i say i'm sorry
i'm sorry for dissapointing you
please forgive me
please dont hate me
i can't continue this
Danni Rae Sep 2015
Living my life in dark patches of blue and grey,
when it could be bright pinks and the color of a clear blue day.
Hiding who I am, to protect the reality I am in,
uncomfortable and struggling within my own skin.
Black splotches in my head run with bright yellow lines of worry,
the rest covered in bad memories and red rage and fury.
I'm like a  bad ending in a great book,
Dissapointing, and no longer worth the look.
Daan Aug 2014
Over a thousand questions float.
But I'm too high-and-mighty
to search and ask for the light he
lost. I know some answers, quote:
"You are not who I thought you were,
a dissapointing wimp, not more than mere
explaining words around the bush."

Hush, my darling, why cry over
something you thought would be better too.
Be the bigger man, don't crawl back with what they would not
believe.
Janey Rose Sep 2016
A feeling of failure fell over her shoulders as the medicine went down. It went away as quickly as it came when all that needed to matter didn't need to matter

          right away

Ignorance is bliss for those who don't see, and if they saw

what a dissapointing sight that would be
          Unapologetic
                   As long as no one was around

          Pathetic
                    Let the medicine go down.

A feeling of failure fell over her shoulders as she saw her future like
steps
below her
feet
One by one          Your day will come          Just follow your dreams

Dreams of success so sweet
                       "the day will come for me"
Her body like fluff in the chair

Then a familiar comfort of mindless bliss caressed her everything

E a s y

          So she didn't need to care
#depression #drugs
Lauren Ehrler Mar 2019
...  

daughter
sister
aunt  
niece
granddaughter
nice
sweet
good girl  
baby faced
lost
unemployed
uneducated
questioning
wandering
stuck  
dissapointing
hopeful
sinful
alone
sad
happy
grateful.....

i am so many things  
but..
Who Am I?
A Duvall Nov 2016
Shoulda known
Shoulda expected
the moment I asked for help
(Im better off alone)
That the minor inconvenience and the minor expectation
(its better if im alone)
Would have been too much for them to manage
(its better if im alone)
For me.
Cant do anything, for me.

You really thought they cared?
No, you really thought they cared?
Whatever made you think that they ever really cared?
Theyve only ever pitied you
Put you in a box, insisted you were stupid despite your intelligent thoughts.
I struggled. I fought. And I have over come.
But yet I still cant manage to find someone who thinks im worth their time
Dissapointed disregarded disheartened
Heart broken
Theyve got me Jaded
Not caring about the danger
tryin to be faded
A little full of anger
A little tired of this hatred
And I've got a little wager
I could convince you right here right now
That no one in my life
knows my life
-knows who I really am
Knows how hard I've had to fight
Against the broken dreams inside
Against the anxiety, depression and autism.
All convincing them im just a waste of life.
And now my life has been spent with
People disrespecting Me
people dissapointing me
People always hurting me
Making me feel
Making me know
That im always
*******
better
off
alone
Michael John May 19
life can be dissapointing..
i thought there would be more..
(expectation a ****
of a cracked bell or-

ugh!
what!
you know,
i sat on the plug)-chance

or fate..this numerical sequence,
running along and down your spine,
ending in infinity-what is it..?
spine, i love..

the secret of the universe?!
(yes,it can be starless..)
did it hurt?
does it hurt
no,spine..
sensuous and intelligent
hard to believe we begun
as fish
who fancied a change..
no,choice
but is..

ii

we must be brave
fatalism is ok on paper
or the death of technology

we will go
by our feelings..
(see poe..)
My fathers love ended up in a box, in a large cold room.
Strange you might think,
That the confectionaries in this dissapointing wooden container
Would be a relic of love to a small boy.
But there it was...
In that large cold room, in that large cold house,
In that large cold school,
Was this box.
And in this box was all sorts of sweets, crisps and so on
And that was what I had of my father.
The box was mysteriously called a "tuck box".
There were other boxes like it, lining the outside of this large room.
But this one was mine.

Each box had a small lock, some had stickers.
Mine had a sticker, neatly aligned in the rear left corner.
The room rarely had any visitors and aside from the boxes, it had a solitary ping-pong table.
There were no batts or *****, just a green table with a net sitting awkwardly in the centre of the echoey room.
If it could speak it would say "What the **** am I doing here"
and I think thats how we all felt... all us boys.
I had no wish to play table tennis.

I did wish for my fathers love though.
Before term he would take me to the shops.
I would be able to buy whatever sweets I liked, but I felt bad, like it must be costing him a lot of money... all those sweets that is...
Not the boarding school or plane journey away from home.

So armed with these sweets packed away in my bag,
I would get on a plane and go to that cold place,
Where this box of treats would remind me that my father wasn't there.
I would rarely share or trade my sweets with other boys.
It felt somehow disloyal to my father.
Like i was trading away his love for some small favour.
But really these trophies were too precious for me to give away.

So years later, I think my fathers love may somehow still be in that box.
In that cold lonely room.
The box is now in my parents attic, full of photos and other memories.
The tie my 'friends' signed on the day I left that school, almost 9 years later.
But I wonder how to reclaim the love locked in that box.
Or reclaim the heart of the lonely, sad boy who only had those sweets to reassure him.
That his father still loved him... wanted him... that even though he was a plane ride away from home...
He still had a home...
Which was...
Where did he live?
Where was his home?
Because it felt like he lived in that cold school,
Filled with the shouts of angry men and wild boys...
While his home was somewhere he no longer lived...
It was somewhere he went to for "holidays"!
In that far away country
Which was safe, and warm but somehow
No longer... home.


And all these years later the gap between me and my father remains
Questions hang in the air like icicles
Ready to fall...
Where were you,
For all those years?
Why didn't you come and get me?
How did you think i would survive without your presence as I grew up, without your love, your advice, your guidance
The safety of being at home...

Let me tell you I managed
I packed my pain away in that box.
And I survived.
I endured the passing of the years,
the bullying, fear, neglect, shame and embarrassment
I didn't so much find a way through. I found a way out.
to a place the world couldn't hurt me.
A place within where i can say **** the world. **** this place and
******* all.
And in that place i felt relatively safe
It was tolerably intolerably

But now as a man.
As i approach my fiftieth year
I can count the cost of this 'safety'
A cost in joy, a cost in love, a cost in family, a cost in life!
Because the part of me hidden in that box isn't living.
It's existing.
And life has needed more from me than I've had to give.
I have needed the colours locked away safely in that box.
I've needed the range of emotion only they could afford
I've needed the courage in there
The joy, the willingness to meet life
And I've not had these things to hand.
They have been locked away... safe
But unused.
As the years toiled on
And life has ebbed away.
I have survived
But not really lived

So here i am at this threshhold of my life
No longer satisfied with the half life of limited pallette.

and I choose life
Choose Colour
Choose expression
Choose Presence
Choose love
Choose pain
Choose tears
Choose loss
l Choose heartbreak.
And i want to let this messy path carry me forward
To a place I do not recognise
And to a life where I can find an experience which
Feel warm enough, safe enough, fun enough, alive enough, where I feel loved enough, where I love enough to dare to dance enough with life to dare to belong enough to call that place
home.

And let me tell you brothers and sisters I wish you to meet me there With your colour, with your joy, your heartbreak, your life and the wisdom trawled from the depths of your despair .
(let us share what we're learned  in a place
where we can join hands and find union in each others souls.
find home in each other
find belonging in each others arms , in each others hearts.
lets rise together, lets heal together, lets **** together and lets love together, walk together, cry together, dance together, marry together , win lose and, die together
we can walk together towards the dawn of our next life  as we part this one full
full of Love of lifes experience, with laughter lines etched across our faces as we tell the stories of our ancestors to our children children.
lets us dance live love and die in glorious presence together with life.
let us be , let us learn , let us live lets live lets draw on the ******* walls and wear our pants on our heads. Let's call ******* on ******* just live our glourds bueauitful lives together in messy harmony.
lets belong together lets home together
lets world together lets joy together
lets  sit together in a puddle of our own tears
and call that place home
where we love our life enough to be broken by its despair
as our blood and tears mix together and we become the earth beneath us.
become the air around us
the fire in our hearts
the love in our bones.
l m May 2014
They cant see my scars
I dont want them ever knowing
that their happy little girl died.
How dissapointing would it be
to know that in her place is
a person that would rather take
8 pills and drowned herself in her tears
than come to them for help.
Mike Hentges Jan 2018
His eyes lolligag across the words but he's not actually reading them.
You can tell because he turns a page, only to turn back, realizing that he didn't digest what he'd just read.

It takes a long time to read this way.

With one's mind elsewhere, anywhere
nowhere but here
Like a fly in amber
encased in this single moment of waiting for her
Feeling the car lights outside rub his back, but not in the scritchy scratchy way that she does it.

He clutches his phone
turns back a page
checks the time
actually registers these numbers
and wonders
if this is routine

Him, waiting in silence, alone in a restaurant, looking like some pathetic **** who never managed to make friends, food on the counter sitting as undigested as the words in his hands.

Her, on her way, late and always dissapointing

He turns back a page.
Janey Rose Nov 2016
A feeling of failure fell over her shoulders as the medicine went down. It went away as quickly as it came when all that needed to matter didn't need to matter

          right away

Ignorance is bliss for those who don't see, and if they saw

what a dissapointing sight that would be
          Unapologetic
                   As long as no one was around

          Pathetic
                    Let the medicine go down.

A feeling of failure fell over her shoulders as she saw her future like
steps
below her
feet
One by one          Your day will come          Just follow your dreams

Dreams of success so sweet
                       "the day will come for me"
Her body like fluff in the chair

Then a familiar comfort of mindless bliss caressed her everything

E a s y

          So she didn't need to care
Kida Price Jun 2014
I'm sorry my music is much too loud.
It drowns out the voices that pulls me apart.
I'm sorry my clothes are too baggy, tight or displeasing to the eye.
It's all I'm allowed to get out of the crowd.
I'm sorry my language is abrasive and blunt
And perhaps not too kind and respectful as it should be.
I had to defend myself since birth and raised my voice to be heard.
I'm sorry my motivation is shot to hell
And it appears that I don't even try.
The opportunities I searched for have all been shot down.
I'm sorry the person I am doesn't fall into your generation scheme.
I have problems falling into place with my own.
I'm sorry my views of god, politics and people are askew.
I assumed then didn't notice me when their hand was absent in my life.
I'm sorry that I failed your expectations of how I would turn out.
I'm sure the expectations you persevered
Required a lot of hard work that was followed by success and acceptance by all.
I'm sorry that you're so tired to see
The kind of person I could be.
I'm sorry that you push me aside in youth
Because you didn't want to take the time to teach me.
I'm sorry if your plans of your future
Are just as dissapointing as mine.
Is wasn't my intent to deprave you this show.
I'm sorry...but I expected more from the generation that raised me.
I'm sorry you created misguided youth and then punished them for following suit.
And once I am done apologizing
And wasting my years on reckless escapes
I'm sure I'll come down to your point of view
And neglect and forget who I'm meant love and protect.
I don't expect to be catered to when I'm older and exhausted
By those I shoot a disdaining eye.
I might have encouraged them to offend me so
But, knowing that, at least I won't be surprised.
Is it not truly dissapointing to watch
someone fail to live up to what you know
they are capable of?
Someone with such potential but they don't use it.

There was a pupil, and this pupil wanted to do something
everyone told him he'd fail at.
But he did it anyway, and for a brief while he felt as if he was home.
As if he had finally found life and his part in it.

He was told that he had talent, that he stood out from the rest.
Someone he greatly admired said this to him infront of his fellow pupils. He was happy.
His purpose felt firmly established.

Months later the pupil fell into a darl place, slowly losing his love
for what he thought he loved.
Lost in a world he thought he figured out, walking through a dark tunnel, looking for a place to sit rather than an exit.

He looked back on what was told to him, that he had talent.
That he was special... he realised something.
Just because someone doesn't fit in, does not mean they
special.

The pupil sat writing about his feelings, and a lite spark came back,
a spark no larger than the first morning light.
Realising what he loved will be there for him,
however he can't be there for it as not to ruin it.
PEARL SMOKE Aug 2017
I Love You, but Im Sorry.
For Failing on Myself And Dissapointing You.
After 2yrs of being sober,
I Relapsed again.
I Couldn't Help it. I Had To Use.
Temptation Was Strong And I Didn't try fighting it this time.
I Didn't See A Point In Staying Sober. I'm miserable Either way.
We are always arguing.
You Are always Making me feel sad and hurt my feelings.
I'm Tired Of Being a fool And forgiving You. When You don't even deserve to be forgiven.
You Don't Treat me fair And don't show me real love and Affection.
Always at your convenience.
I have Always been Good to you.
Honest , Loyal , trustworthy.
I Don't deserve to be treated less.
I Wanted To Use.
To not feel The way I Do Anymore.
To Forget all The ****** up **** you done to me and feel  Numb.
Please Don't hate me.
I Hope You understand.

— The End —