Just a Pustule
I am just a pustule on the face of planet Earth,
wasting air and taking space since the sad day of my birth.
All my predecessors have by their own hands died,
insanity and hopelessness drew them to suicide.
Now my daughter wrestles with the demons of her kin,
living life daily, uncomfortable in her skin.
I'll not be missed when I am gone; I've left no real impression,
and daily life will just go on, steeped in deep depression.
©Danielle White
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
