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Standing on the outside,
looking in.
Loneiness seeping,
into my skin.
Trailblazing tears,
roll down my cheeks.
Twisted insides,
I may as well die.
Shamefully wipeing,
away the hurt.
Never accepted,
for who I am.
Standing on the outside,
looking in.



That "trailblazing tears" is a good image. I'm not entirely sure how wiping hurt away is a "shameful" act -- you might feel ashamed about something else, while doing it, but the action doesn't seem connected to the emotion you assign it.

Since I don't know what incident might have prompted you to have these feelings, it's a little hard for me, as a reader, to enter into these emotions... that is, you list the effect your feelings have upon you, but since I'm not sure what caused these feelings, it's hard for me to respond. What injustice, cruelty, or omission does this poem respond to? You may not feel comfortable sharing that in your blog, of course...

Ultimately, as a human being who sees a fellow human being's expression of misery, I feel for you... if there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.

Spring is almost here, and we'll all have good reason to cheer up a bit.

SueMyers said:

First I would like to say, thanks for caring Dr. Jerz :)
I wrote this poem by the way I feel most of the times. For the two years (well, just about two years) that I have been here I have felt very much the outsider, and I have never felt excepted by people. Even though I have a handfull of friends, people don't want to except me for who I really am. They seem to see my flaws, which we all have (but I guess they don't see that, whats funny is, I'm willing to change and they aren't) they seem to say, "whoa, I want nothing to do with that", they don't even try to get to know me. Its all very frustrating. I struggle a lot with the friend issue.
The other thing is, I guess the shamefully wipeing away the hurt doesn't work, I was thinking about how I am so emotional. I cry very easily and a lot (fortunatly not as much as I used too) I guess sometimes I feel embarrased because of my tears, or maybe even feel ashamed of it.
I was actually quite surprised when I saw a comment on my poem, most of the time I'm not noticed by people (I guess being shy doesn't help) I figured I would just be pushed aside like yesterday's news.
I guess I'm just another ordinary girl expressing her woes. I will say one thing though, it did help writing it.
I hope that helped in explaining some of my reasonings for this. :)

Okay, thanks for the clarification. I managed to get myself a bit worried about you.

Instead of "shamefully wiping the hurt away," how about "wiping the shameful hurt away"? If you feel ashamed about the hurt, that's where the "shameful" part should go.

Writing is a great way to work out your negative feelings. I do think that the schools that freak out at the first sign of violence in a kid's short story are over-reacting... still, I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask.

SueMyers said:

I really didn't mean to freak everyone out. But I am glad somebody cared enough to make sure I was alright. I will be honest though, the poem is all true except for the dying part. I am an outsider, I cry all the time and sometimes i am ashamed of my tears, and people don't except me for who i am. I guess too I shouldn't have gone with my own assumptions, considering that I am the invisible girl, I figured nobody would read my blog or take notice, so i figured nobody would care. Today, i learned a lesson. Sorry everyone :(
I have a question, if I fix the shameful part, will that mess the whole blog up, the comments and all? Just want to make sure before I do anything to it.

Very observant of you to notice that changing the poem would affect the chain of comments. You might fix it in a comment, or you might post the new poem in another blog entry. But it's your blog -- do whatever you like with it.

Cat Romas said:

"Lonely Horse"
By Cat Romas

She ran as fast as the wind,
Thinking of only freedom,
The men were shouting,
The guns were blasting,
She dodged to her left,
as a bullet sped by,
The men shouted louder,
Her neck was lasooed,
The tire dragged & bounced,
She fell to her knees,
As if to say a prayer,
The men were now silent,
A loud ZAP, and then a thump,
The smell of blood & terror,
Upside down they all hung,
Once they were strong & vibrant.
She fell to her knees,
As if to say a prayer,
She looked around,
Yet no one was there.

Sue said:

Cat, that was really good, that is so powerful, yet so sad. Thanks for sharing your poem with me :)

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