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September 20, 2014
9:10 pm
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Don’t you hate

When life is offered

On a silver plate

To those too many

In this weird world

Who could not deserve it less?

They think they are the best

Because life comes so easily

And they are allowed to live

As freely as one could attempt to be

Amidst the chaos and confusion

Suffered by all the rest;

With a flick of the hair

And flash of a smile,

They view refusal

As life’s only trial;

Sickening thought, is it not?

They would sell their souls

For a night of carefree fun

Then turn around and declare

You to be the devil’s spawn;

This irony goes unnoticed

By all except the ones they hurt,

The ones who constantly question

Their importance and self-worth

After being ignored by those

Lavished with attention yet always

Demanding and expecting more;

They are the kings and queens,

And all the rest are the limited pawns.

They will lie and whine and spit

In envious, enraged fits

When one who is smarter, fairer, or the like

Enters into the picture with the greatest grace

Only to be cast down into their snake pit;

“How dare the world,” or so they say,

“Endeavor to find another like me

Then attempt to accuse me

Of petty jealousies?”

These fortunate few know no bounds

And make full use of all the terrain

Then condemn the triumphs of all the rest,

For how could they appear as second best?

They will praise you one moment

And instruct you on how to rightly act

Then play the wounded victim

And ridicule you behind your back;

Don’t you hate

When they berate

All you have strived for, the rewards

Of tribulations strongly endured?

Beauty is pretty unless it is worn by one

Not residing under their selfish sun;

Then it is deemed vanity, and they ask,

“Why would you even try

To compete with me?

Foolish thing, you should know by now,

There is not another more humble or proud.”

Don’t you hate as much as I do

When the lies they cry suddenly become true?

“Is there no justice in this world?” you may ask-

Well, finding it is my chiefest task.

It is not right to so wrongly be condemned

For being competent unlike them

In subjects not regarding self;

When did it become cruel

To want to be my own woman or man?

When did I become vain

For wanting to be acknowledged

Even once along the way?

The rules are decided by those whom life

Has so kindly spared from a second’s strife;

What can one expect of a word so unfair

As to give the greedy all the attention and care?

What of the fallen, the broken, or pained?

What part of them will still remain

After receiving another’s needless share

Of life’s vicious capriciousness and brutality?

I wonder if I will stay the same.

My identity can be found in my writing
September 20, 2014
9:20 pm
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Points: 11652
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Sounds like someone is not on your good list :). This is an interesting piece filled with emotion. My favorite part of this poem is how smoothly it rhymes, not forced at all. Great work!

The following users say thank you to tlhopkinson for this useful post:

SerenaLantha
Wine is bottled poetry. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson
September 21, 2014
9:47 am
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This is so non typical of your poetry @SerenaLantha I had to jump back to your name twice as I read it to make sure that it was indeed written by you............ The manifestations of a sullen poem caused by someone you know give the reader that knows your writing something to think about.......... And if you wrote this off the cuff and are not writing about a specific individual you've thrown me for a loop............ The poem reads wonderfully with many creative lines......... But the game changer here is the question at the end............ "I wonder if I will stay the same?"

Do we ever?

Semper Fi

The following users say thank you to Killerelite for this useful post:

tlhopkinson, SerenaLantha
Those individuals who deem themselves perfect barely scratch an elbow in their fall from grace. Wm Steele
September 21, 2014
11:36 am
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Thanks, @tlhopkinson and @Killerelite Yes, this is definitely not my usual write...I was hesitant about posting it since its purpose is really in the title. Though, thanks for your kind comments! I suppose, yes, it was inspired by a certain individual or two but then when the writing got rolling, I made it more general for those who might relate. The return of school and family and etc.. has now entered into my writing it seems...

My identity can be found in my writing
September 21, 2014
6:58 pm
Writer
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Wonder no more, you will not stay the same, you will grow.

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SerenaLantha

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