It comes at a point where I knew I was forgotten
that one person that is replaceable in so many occasions
to feel like the person remembered felt good, felt great, a lot
the sad truth of it all, is there is still the lack of reciprocal passions.
I could stand up and scream, yell it from the rooftops
yet on deaf ears it would fall, deaf in the sense that they are closed off
the choice to be handicapped in the reception of my confessions
in the game of love and life, my win column is desolate, just a column of losses
The slight encouragement that comes and goes just as fast as it arrives
“put together another book” yet the first one was not even consumed
full of pain, full of honesty, full of the person who is always overlooked
yeah it was an epic tale of the beaten and downtrodden that never quits
so this is my new book, in daily, weekly, consistent installments
it would be great to be noticed as someone great
if not, I just hope these words reach and touch someone who needs it
and if it is right on time, then I am glad I was not late.
The last 6 beautifully crafted lines jump out at me. How, despite pain, you still desire to inspire others. Also the words “overlooked” and the phrase of your poetry as the “tale of the beaten and downtrodden that never quits” strikes me. I can relate to all of that on so many levels. Yet the “overlooked” part? It is seemingly part and parcel of our lives. If we are honest with ourselves, everyone has probably overlooked others in some form or fashion, even to the point of dismissing them or not even counting them as an option, be it for a viable job, friendship, romance, a thought in the corner of one’s mind. However, some of us have experienced being overlooked far too many times to count, not just by others, but even by ourselves. I hope to do better the remainder of this year to believe I’m more than what my toxic thoughts or the world thinks of me, and throw overlooking self to the wind. As for people not overlooking others, especially good, genuine folks? I won’t hold my breath.
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