Looking back to the past
I see a bleak photograph:
a mother with no clue
what to do with a daughter,
a father that couldn't see farther
than his next fix
and no brothers or sisters
to help carry my load,
no one to hold on to.
I still feel the same
as I did back then--
so alone, but no one
seems to care.
I am not here,
I am not there.
I still find a reason
to go on,
some beauty to carry me through--
I make my own way
since no one else seems to see
what I see
or feel what I do.
Sometimes I wonder
is it because I am ugly?
Or because I'm not thin enough
not well-off enough,
just
not
good
enough.
It must be something
since they look straight through me
and see nothing.
Author notes
I need to work on this. Right now it's just a draft for the most part.
Comments
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A Pilgrim's journey
When I saw the movie Amelie, I felt quite identified with the character. Always looking in the movies the frams and details no one pays attention to, the mindscapes or the ways inside the thoughts, as if trapped inside a never ending poem jumping from word to word, or feeling the rain of Debussy chords fall next
to paper boats over empty fountains. There seems to be this kind of yearning that trust me, you're not alone in feeling, as if a strong sense of belonging seems undone and nothing but mist covers your shadow. But just so you know, remember that you've always been a super cool friend and sister I think about, ( who also that taught me the many written variances of the fart ) as one who introduced me to the written worlds and never-ending landscapes inside the pencil, after that encounter with the rose and dragons in the cornfields of indiana that left me hurt and bleeding from my soul, your encouragment and simple existence in these binary realms was enough to become support among you and a very few others who became guardians to heal again. The years in your daughter are running....make sure you give her all your love and tenderness you're capable of, that you draw bigger and stronger paper wings on her back from which she will also be capable of taking off and fly, for she sees your thoughts and moods. Let there always be a warm light between you and her no matter the darkness outside...and...if one day you can travel to the caribean or the tropics, go ahead!...Wishing you all the best of encounters and life's colors...
Xc
:hug:
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Your final stanza got me the most, Lea, knowing that sensation all too well myself. I'd suggest handing them some trifocals - you can borrow mine - as they are obviously blind to the beauty within their midst. It took me many years to figure out that being "different" wasn't necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it's much better than most people's monotonous existences. 
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Yes I know that there is nothing wrong with being different, in fact I like it very much and I think that it's a great thing. But having some friends would be nice. It seems that I don't fit in with anyone.
Thanks for your kind words and thoughts
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Perhaps you have some poetry or art classes or bookstores where you might find some kindred souls nearby? Ahhh, none of us really fit in, Lea...not unless we trim our corners and edges so we might slide into the preconceived mould.
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Those are great suggestions, but for whatever reason those haven't worked out for me. The students at my school are mostly traditional, and have no interest in making friends with an old fogey.
I do like to go to Barnes and Noble to sit and read, but I have never made any friends that way. Perhaps I am too introverted? I don't know.
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Yeah, I know. Me, either. But then, I got out of the Wasteland, Oklahoma, and into a new city that actually HAS some culture. 
Old fogey, my ass, Lea. I just turned 51 and I ain't one yet. 
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