"sociality" poems
I wish I was gregarious
so open and social
I wish I could go up to someone
and talk to them
without the little voice in my head screaming
"they're judging you
they hate you
they think you're a freak"
once that little voice speaks
I hide in my shell
and sociality ceases before it even started
I wish I was gregarious
and had friends here
my soul aches for companionship
instead of holed up in my room
scared of what others think of me
I want to be social
I want to be outgoing
but I'm my biggest obstacle
I need to try and try and try
otherwise I'll die alone
wondering where I went wrong
maybe being gregarious isn't natural
maybe it's something learned
and perfected
until walking up to someone to say hi
isn't an incapable task
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 10:03 AM UTC
In we prance, kingly versions of ourselves.
Nothing to dwell upon besides self,
I am frightened—
Comfortable in the awkward sociality.
I fear the end.
Yet, the start is always excruciating.
Once over the climb toward conversation,
The continuation is admired
This cycle does nothing.
The affluent believe they are better,
The others place great trust in “humility,” but lack humbleness.
These are the two groups of which we do not belong
By the end, there I hang,
Wishing to be forgotten by all instead of many.
Consumed by my own worries
No better than the ones I am leaving.
Feb 8, 2010
Feb 8, 2010 at 9:09 AM UTC
Dear Bitter, Broken, me,
To the days that you have longed, but never received
To the days that you have questioned, but never conceived
To the days that you have sought freedom, yet still have not broken free.
To the days you have sought outcome, yet still have nowhere to be.
And to the days you have spent broken and battered; this might set you free
So Dear bitter, broken, you;
Courage, my friend.
Don’t die wondering
It might look like the end
but this is only the beginning.
We have to walk, even though it hurts.
But we can take our time
because I know it gets worse.
Believe me, I get it.
We’re blinded by what we see, yes I get it.
A moment of silence for those who don’t get this.
I pray to God “can I please just forget this”
But now listen it won’t always be like this
Don’t fall for the words the enemy has prescribed us with
We’re consumed not immune to what we think is true
To the pain we sustain because it makes us feel good
So dear bitter, broken, me;
You’re a time bomb awaiting to break lose.
Confronting yourself wasn’t always the best thing to do,
Aware of the guilt and falsity of disregarding this book
I can’t bare its facts to what seems to be the truth.
I can’t stand this.
Why does it feel like I can never surpass this.
My broken heart and upset mind can’t comprehend
So dear bitter, broken, me is coming to an end
Lured and lusted to internet sociality
Upset and degraded because i’m not what instagram tells me to be
My life consisted of adversity in reality
I’m marked with scars
scarred for every reason that i’m not
Ive died on the inside allowing my outside to rot
It’s me and my sin until death do us apart
or so I thought
I flip the pages of the book of James
And I’m reminded about this love that never changed
But allow me to speak this truth for you
This grace, This love let it pursue you
We out to sought the truth of whether or not this God we speak of has truly existed
And trust me I wouldn’t speak of it if I didn’t already know this.
And it may sound crazy the way I say this but the relationship I have with my Jesus is more than just religion.
Believe me, He gets it.
A bitter, broken me, yes He gets this.
He showed me His scars,
Scarred for every reason I thought I was
Once died on that cross
For the bitter broken me that I once was
Simplicity at its finest
Complexity has no life in this
A love I thought I forgot
Was once reintroduced by the begotten son of God
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 6:18 AM UTC
My sad mentality
Destroys my reality
Annihilates my honesty
All I have got is privacy
Not a shed of sociality
My life's complexity
Against myself a conspiracy
Emphasizes my stupidity
Locks up my humanity
Self pity is my speciality
It seems a necessity
Which confuses my phsychology
And Leaves nothing I wanna be
My life's history
I have waited patiently
To write in my corrupting diary
For I am no deity
If there was something godly
I'd have been killed furiously
That conclusion comes logically
Though simultaneously
I have lived happily
My neurology
I have kept in secrecy
Cause with my souls delivery
To the devils cookery
They feasted immediately
On my souls purity
My life's mystery
Won't be uncovered easily
For I life silently
In my ****** up fantasy
Which left nothing I wanna be
I have waited impatiently
For others to grow up with me
For without being remotely angelically
I have behaved, we'll almost elderly
Or I have tried to behave intelligently
Never drunkingly
And quite rarely
Entirely freely
On this I look quite positively
For it has allowed me
To stand against the waves unwaveringly
Looking upon life much more detailedly
Seeing more nuanced on life's complexity
And for the ability to do this comfortably
I must thank my family
While I can say all the above truthfully
There is plenty to say negatively
For standing against the norm unrockingly
Can at the best of times be quite lonely
And most the time I looked desperately
After those who floated by me oh so freely
While looking so unfathomably
Completely, worryingly, unanimously happily
At a world driven by the greedy,
Disgustingly, horrifying monsters of humanity
This have tortured me existentially
At times I have felt ****** up mentally
But as time passed slowly
Step by step I realized surprisingly
That it has left me allmost exactly like I allways wanted to be.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 3:14 AM UTC
Call me raven
for I am sensitive
to human persecution.
I'll run away from man
and hide in the wilderness.
Call me crow
for I mock man.
I thrived on his sociality.
I laugh at his face
and at his impotent attempts
to **** me.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
When the butterfly has flown the lily graced flower
That has been the family home for generations upon generations,
Whose petals have protected against mites for decades;
When she has left with no intention of looking back over one jaded ruby wing
To reminisce upon all she's leaving behind
Between the silken walls of her childhood home;
That's when the community begins to judge her.
Scarlet wings gallantly breezing through the air with nary an effort, she glides above the rest, destination unknown.
Laughs, sneers, jeers, and scorn rise from the ground below her gravitating form like smoke from a house fire.
~She's afraid of her past.
~Her family must have disowned her.
~It's her own fault, anyways.
High above them, she still hears everything, but pretends not to. After all, life will soon be her oyster, far away from this place.
Far away from the crowds of rude sociality that insist upon knowing every last detail about her life and pursuits, morphing her most sacred details into gossip fit for the common lunch table at the Meadowlands Cafe.
Far away from the friends who helped her grow until she realized her wings were too large and beautiful to hide or fit within the confines of this dulling, lifeless community.
And far, far, far away from the smoldering smoke that emanated from the last tulip at the Far East side of the community, the burning of leaf and petal that had prompted her leaving once and for all.
Scarlet like her wings, her past has gone up in flames. Soon, the butterfly is past the scorning and pointing of fingers and into the wild unknown. Only here does she bite her lip and look back, against her better judgement. And then she smiles.
All that's left of her past is a cloud of bad memories mixed with the haze of gossip and the smoke from a home that never felt like it was her own.
So she pushed on. Scarlet flutters through turquoise until she disappears, a red blob on the hazy horizon.
She has overcome. And she is free.
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 7:21 AM UTC
Admiration
our likes and tastes are quite different, ladies loving ****** and other die-hards for gents. Men for thigh exposure and others for descence, though all for a reason. We fancy scents, clothings, height, rides, the wallet size and most definitely the LOOKS, before all is gone some sense. Everyone needs a person to look up to for inspiration, in work, sociality, design and so forth. It costs you nothing to admire positively, many there look Upto you though you don't know, just keep it up-take yourself very important, for it's the beginning of hope for others that believe in you. Not necessary to forge a life #be you #be real.
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
She is the mother of us all,
were she not grown.
Her son but a brother, a brat,
the world not moved
for her words fell on no one.
She fought and fussed,
wasting away in sociality,
and now she is trapped.
Aware and complacent,
she no longer burns.
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 2:06 AM UTC
Is there something waiting for me?
Because everybody knows I'm missing,
Each effort, gone and lost,
Until I remember my loneliness,
Wasn't this what I wanted?
I fill myself with regret, every single sip,
As I lay down on a bed,
Agonised and prosaic,
Watching through a screen, white light,
Scrolling down, tears abrupt,
Should I notice the uneventful latter?
Of people that unintentionally empathise,
I, the melting melancholic maniac,
They care and look out for.
A phobia, too frightening and aghast,
I hold in secret locked inside,
A fear of sociality, interaction, discussions,
I decide to bury within.
All I wanted to be was adored,
But my pupils dilate as they appear,
I never think of compassion and love,
I abhor and think it is fake,
It ruins me, every single emotion,
Is that why you decided to discard the past?
So you can forget the meaning of love,
But we are alike and the same,
But you ripped the hope out of my mind,
And I will hate you ever since,
And will pay for the crime of sin.
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 4:57 AM UTC
By the same meaning stood beside,
Not a monologue or prose,
Contemplative configurations silenced.
A language?
A language.
Swimming into a fractal of personality
It can be heard through whispers
And the gossamer between.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 7:12 PM UTC
/// • |
<>
/// • |
<>
/// • |
<>
X
day
Little child
On the way to school and death
•
day
Another sacred moment spent in solitary destruction
And Loneliness
•
We know everything but it is simpler to pretend to be
what we say we are
////
The story drifts toward the alleyways
Where the hungry await the police men
And the children learn to recite the new age lies
••
In the jungle
In the stink of total mass extinction
In the fornicative posture of loveless ***
And meaningless sociality
••
Awaiting
Awaiting Pain
///
A few
I LOVE YOU 's drift aimlessly
Looking for blood
///
As the hope still lingers
That someone might truly dare escape
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC