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Wesley Friedmann Poem
Confusion, annoyance, the thought of not knowing what fate has in store,
The waiting, the rejections, the thought of never finding out.
Knowing the answer I cautiously stay away, fearing the response you give.
People call it a sixth sense, but I know better.
It’s a curse, the feeling of inevitability.
Finally, I feel I have found my courage, though it’s taken long enough.
I walk slowly in your direction, carefully planning out the conversation I need to have.
As I greet you, I feel the words already to come out of your mouth.
That’s it, I can’t go on. I already know what you would say.
I pretend like you’re in the way, that my class is in the building behind you.
I quickly end our conversation before it begins. Why should I wait to hear it?
As I enter the building I look back at you, and I can see it’s the truth.
You knew what I was going to do, and you are grateful I lost my nerve.
We both knew the answer.
I call out “see you around” as if I mean it.
Of course I will see you, how could I miss an angel like you.
But of course that isn’t what I mean.
We already hit this wall once, never again I tell myself.
“Stay friends” I tell myself, but it’s too hard.
Seeing you digs the dagger farther into my heart.
So I guess no words could fill the barrier between us.
I think to myself “So this is how a good-bye feels?”
And as the door shuts in front of me, I turn away from you and walk into the empty halls.
“See you around?” I think to myself, yea right.
I’ll stay away, just because it’s easier.
Copyright © Wesley Friedmann | Year Posted 2005
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Details |
Wesley Friedmann Poem
An empty tunnel, no entrances or exits.
My one thought, how do I get back near you.
No windows, no doors, no air holes and yet I live.
Where am I, will someone find me.
These thought are nothing compared to one.
Where are you, are u ok.
And yet I think, I am stuck forever.
No one will find me, they won’t know where to look.
As time passes, one word sticks in my mind, Suicide.
For I will surely die here anyway, so why hold up the inevitable.
And wait, I see a sharp stone, just waiting to be picked up.
I grab it, tear at the shirt I am wearing, exposing skin.
I raise the stone, thinking I will see you in heaven.
I lower the stone with all my strength……………………………………………………
I look up, I thought I heard a sound, maybe your voice.
That’s it, I can’t go through with it.
As long as I hear your voice, I will wait.
Suicide might be the painless way, but your voice is the sweeter.
Copyright © Wesley Friedmann | Year Posted 2005
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