The Last StrikeA Poem by Suzy Q
So maybe I do make castles out of dirt,
But does that mean that their words don't hurt?
Does that mean that their actions don't wound me somehow?
Now don't have a cow
When I say they're acting immature,
Picking on the smallest child
When they should really walk a mile
In her shoes.
What's left for me to lose?
The last shreds of self respect?
Maybe they're just jealous of my intellect,
Although I doubt it, I'm not all that smart.
My mind wanders from me like a loose go-cart,
It thinks and does things I don't want it to do,
So can we please keep this from me to you?
They don't see how hard I work nor do they care,
They're like a pack of wolves and I'm a small hare.
I wonder if they knew
What I go through
On a daily basis
Would that change their faces?
Would that change their minds?
Would that allow me to put our past behind
Us and start a new friendship?
Then what happens to all my hardships?
Were they futile? Do they matter?
Now I just sound like that mad hatter.
It seems like I'm just questioning with no answers,
The questions are floating in my mind like some of those ballet dancers.
Someone help me decipher my life?
I think I'm down to my last strike.
© 2011 Suzy Q
Added on July 14, 2011
Last Updated on July 16, 2011
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