Mistaken
There is a sadness I carry with me.
It is in the way I move my legs
and how I cannot look at strangers
as they pass. It is the sadness of a beggar,
a sadness best left to the dead of night.
It is a sadness that does not want me,
orphan that I am, but it is me
that sadness has found.
Copyright © Sam Mayhue | Year Posted 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment