This is an attempt at twisting more personal feelings into poetry.
Continue at your own risk.
This is it. I will be another to admit defeat.
This rotten loneliness, enough to make ten persons sick.
Born from something biological; nurtured by mental self-harm. (Shame on me)
Poorly living, at times wishing death, I’m inanimate through all these days.
Humiliating oneself for having natural longings.
Covetous of companionship and envious of prosperity.
Feign apathy to veil my real agony.
(Fake laughter to compensate for lake of tears)
I’ll have you know this is inside. Not a safe haven and not a prison.
More of a barren plain, ravaged over time.
Mind you not many are shown this place.
For sake of society’s standards; for sake of feeling ashamed.
In the end, just promise me you’ll make it great for yourself someday.
As for me, I’ll be here.
Here in my rotten loneliness.