Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sometimes I just burst out with emotion,
To set up my own affliction.
To end up with sarcasm, I say reverse of that thing,
They don't understand and that ruins everything.
Yeah it's my fault,
No one will be there as default.
No one knows what is inside one's head,
It is hidden and embed.
Maybe I will be able to express one day,
That day is not far away.
I talk to strangers more,
Don't talk to known anymore.
Reason being they don't judge,
Known used to adjudge.
I choose to be alone sometime,
So that it will not be there as paradigm.
Yeah strangers will laugh but,
They will not abut.
After all we don't know them,
Rather being emotionally condemn.
I hate myself for being dependent,
I always wanted to be independent.
I care for each and everything,
In return, I get nothing.
I was alone when I faced so much of ****,
Was not in a situation to acquit.
I have seen people going away from my life,
Now it has became a rife.
At last I am alone,
Nothing to bemoan.
Used to fake a smile and move on,
Which made me better in hiding and to be alone.
Jennifer Medrano Mar 2019
My secrets are metaphors.
The words are artfully arranged in alliteration
Or cautiously halted in
Enjambment so that they don't reveal themselves.

My secrets are anaphoric.
They are metonymic, swearing secrecy to the pen.
Sometimes they are synecdoches,
Begging, afraid, in rhyme for your attention again.

My secrets are anecdotes.
They write about themselves through personification.
This poem juxtaposes itself;
I've told you all of my secrets of secrecy-how ironic.

— The End —