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What's the matter with me?
Aren't I good enough?
Smart enough?
Strong enough?
Kind enough?
Whatever enough
To be friend material?
People like me, that's the truth.
The world stays by me because I go to it
Because I listen when it needs to talk
Because I treat it as I want to be treated.
So then what's wrong with me?
When I need a friend, where is the world?
When I have a problem
When I need someone to hear me
Where is the world?
Do I always have to do the work?
Am I the only one who cares?
Selfish, I know.
Common sense says I should be content--
I should try to derive pleasure in being friendly--
I should continue to be patient.
Why?
I just want what everyone else wants.
Understanding.
-4 November, 1999
3 responses total.
I'm not sure how to critique this-- I may wind up in the doghouse if I say too much. I think this is another poem written for therapy, and such poems, IMHO, need to be considered as they are-- for the feeling and emotion of the moment is usually expressed pretty raw and pure, and doesn't suffer a lot of artistic embellishment. (Thus I maintain: the quality of art depends on the view of the receiver.) If it was written for more competitive purposes, I would rework some of the cliches-- I've heard the phrase "strong enough/smart enough" somewhere before.
call me messedup but i have felt the same way often:P
I think everybody has.
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