23.

This poem is about all of the poeple who had left me in my life. I was feeling really sad about it one night and I decided to pull out my laptop and type and I felt alot better after I had written it.

23.

 

               

23. I have counted. 23 people. I have counted on my fingers and toes. I have done tally marks, numbers, and even mathematical equations, but I still get the same amount. 23.

23 people in my life have left me. Willingly, or not. Some of them were too young to understand the pain of leaving someone behind. But I have felt it 23 times. 23.

23 times have I cried over someone at least once. Yet, I have not received at least one reason why they have gone and never returned. I have 23 un-answered questions. 23.

Some of them had left when I was only six years old. Yet the pain still hurts and it has been thirteen years. Some have left an hour ago. But any way you count it, the number is 23. 23.

The number will continue to go and never shrink. For those 23 people have come and gone but none have stayed permanently. All have tried, but gave up. 23.

Now, I do not tell you this to brag about the amount of people I have lost. I tell you this because you will hurt no matter the number. Whether it is one, five, nineteen, or twenty three, the result will always be the same, pain. 23.

I have always wondered, “is it me?” but then I remember that cannot be, because I cannot control who I am, and one day someone will love me for who I am and who I will become, but for now the number remains. 23.

23. I have counted. 23 people. I have counted on my fingers and toes. I have done tally marks, numbers, even mathematical equations, but I still get the same amount. 23.