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Forgotten
Tears roll down my cheeks.
But I don’t think that anyone has seen them.
I don’t think anyone cares.
For to the world, I’m nothing but a ghost.
A shadow.
A small breeze in the distance.
I don’t matter.
How could I?
No one has the time to actually see me with their eyes.
Or heard me with their ears.
I’m invisible, it seems.
Doomed to roam the earth unseen.
Cursed to remain as nothing but a distant memory in the human mind.
Destined to be nothing but the whisper on the wind whose cries are never registered.
Ignored by those who “care” for me.
Forgotten by “friends” and “family”.
Who am I to be who I am?
What gives me the right to wish to be something more?
Something important?
Something… remembered?
Apparently I don’t have the right
Because I don’t deserve to be noticed.
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This article has 5 comments.
I just realize that there's a typo. -.- I hate it when I do this.
* thoughts that
Forgotten, I find it very difficult to critique poems because they are a reflection of ourselves on a deep and meaningful level.
However, I could suggest something for this poem: more description.
This poem is about emotion; thoughts the writhe in your head. I would like to feel the twisted pain, the overflowing sorrow, and maybe the bitterness of being forgotten.
But really, this poem does not require an excess of description. It is meaningful enough without it.
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Favorite Quote:
Loneliness adds beauty to life. It puts a special burn on sunsets and makes night air smell better.-Henry Rollins, For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?-W. H. Auden, Forgotten is forgiven- F. Scott Fitzgerald