Feeling the cold bathroom floor,
As I lay there helplessly,
Silent crying occurs,
When I think so recklessly,
She's not worth my tears,
That cause me so much fear,
She's not even worth my time,
So why do I shed a tear?
I'm better of without her,
But I refuse to turn out like she did,
A self-centered, lonely, black-hearted woman,
That can't look after her own kid,
Running away from her problems,
Is all she's ever been good at,
She thinks it's her against the world,
What kind of example is that?
She forever paints a picture,
Of her perfect family,
But there's a black smudge on the page,
I believe that's 14yr old me,
They say it gets better,
As time goes by,
But I'm sick of waiting,
For the right time,
She hides behind a mask,
So no one else can see,
The ugly she really is,
The way she acts around me
I don't fit in her perfect life,
So she can cancel that appointment,
I'm done fixing our problems,
To stop my disappointment.
This poem, unfortunately, is not well known because it was published on the Internet. Therefore, no author information could be found on this poet.
This poem, I believe, even though it was written in 2008, could relate to the recent faux of the Apocalypse of 2011. I’m not suggesting this poet wrote this poem ABOUT Harold Camping and his followers, but I started thinking the other day of how the followers of this man must have felt when nothing happened. I can imagine that they felt dooped. Fooled. I think that’s what the heart of this poem is. That feeling that someone gets when they put all they’ve got into this one belief or moment in life, and when it backfires on them, that feeling of remorse, pity, and self-loathing comes to play.
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