PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

So I am.

I am sad. Lonely.

Dead. Dead for fifteen years. 

So myself:

 

 

I'm copying my friends,

Ethan's cello. Adrian's girls. Daniel's knowledge. Ryan's intelligence. Logan's math. Master's poems. Bobby's bass. Joel's science. Kyle's guitar. The jerk's diamond and cosmopoliteness. Tori's powers over me...

And so the list goes on. Therefor, I am jealous.

 

I hate, 

Harpist. Mathist. Noodle boy. The jerk. The line segment. The scientist...

And so the list goes on. Therefor, I am judgmental. 

 

I am curious,

The Latin one. The language one. The sex-addict. The many-fencer...

And so the list goes on. Therefor, I am paranoid. 

 

I look at myself,

Scars. Blood. Dirt. Pimples. Ugliness...

And so the list goes on. Therefor, I am empathetic. 

 

I say,

Go. I stay. Leave. I stay. Eat. I stay. Dance. I stay. WORK!!! I stay...

And so the list goes on. Therefor, I am weak and lack initiative.

 

My head speaks more than my mouth, as you can see. And it talks for naught, my body does nothing. The body and the mind are two seperate identities I struggle to control. There for, I am bipolar.