"No Response" An old poem.

"No Response" An old poem.

trent13131369's picture

I wrote this when I was in my sophmore year of highschool. Highschool was beyond a difficult time for me, like most people. I haven't met anyone who dissagrees with me on this subject. Throughout all of the years, my only real friend was my english teacher, Dan. Even after highschool ended, we still stayed in touch. For this particular year, I went through many phases, as does everyone...when they hit that 'I'm finding myself phase.' This was also the year that I came out as a bisexual. And normally, for a girl, you'd figure that it really wouldn't become a big deal...exspecially with males...not-so-much for me. Not-to-long after I came out and everyone knew, there was this kid named Eric {who already bullied the fuck out-of-me} who found out...and everyday in between classes decided to shove/push me into objects in the hallway, lockers{which were fuckin' metal} were his favortive item to do so. Not-to-long after I switched schools. So I was in the middle of math class when I went into a daze and wrote this.

Anyways...here's the poem.

                                                           "NO RESPONSE."

No Response in this such class, participating in only silence. I have been here long enough but remain not seen. By the ones whom hold on to meaningless material items, clinging to there so-called life. I have adopted this theory as I overlook this foreign reign of clones. These leeches who feed off of what men call popular culture-- from which the minds of the strong wither away and crumble upon this silver platter, of which I hold. And as this matter builds, I awake. I find myself in this room--full of chaos--and nothing has changed. I remain still--surrounded by these numerous faces painted with smiles, all expect for mine--the true face of melancholy. I am not allowed to speak any words, even though they flow off of my tongue. I am choosing to be silent. Why dare to speak when one cannot be heard? And by whom shall I let listen to the derangement of my mind? No such response say I.

 

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twistedstoryteller123's picture

Yeah. I sometimes felt out of place in school. Everyone was in their own little cliques, but I felt that I didn't belong anywhere. Hell, to be honest, that is how life is for me. Some people don't understand why I like horror, judging me on that behalf. Good idea of an outcast piece.

trent13131369's picture

Dude, for a long fuckin' time and still on occassion now-a-days i feel excatly the same as yoou. Atleast we both have people like us to tell us that were not alone. Thanx so much 4 the comment! I'm still waiting 4 the 2nd part of ur brillant piece...I cannot wait man! Its still in my head...that piece "Baby Doll" just got to me...Dude its so damn good...I'm on the egde of my seat waiting for more....! Much love Twisted!!!

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