Post by Lisa Arnold on Mar 2, 2005 3:59:39 GMT -5
Hello All 
"For Me" was published online at "GoodTaste International back in 2005. Here is the link: www.goodtasteinternational.com/main.php?id=90....I pulled it up tpday to share it with you all again and with those who have not read it before...let me know what you think of it 
[/color]
"For Me" was published online at "GoodTaste International back in 2005. Here is the link: www.goodtasteinternational.com/main.php?id=90....I pulled it up tpday to share it with you all again and with those who have not read it before...let me know what you think of it 
[/color]FOR ME?
This must be the thousandth time, I have rode
home on this crowded musty bus
and this is the first time, I believe, I ever noticed
the agony of despair and the desolation
of loneliness plastered on the nameless faces,
I scarcely take notice of.
I am barely breathing among them,
living a fruitless mundane life
so very unalike the one’s they lead.
How many times have I said,
“Good Morning and have a nice evening”
without really meaning it?
I could disappear and no one
would ever take notice.
I am no longer a person.
I am a mere shadow on the wall,
a brief silhouette in the hollow of night,
an unheard whisper in the wind.
I am the subject
of any Sylvia Plath poem.
I am the reason why people write
stories of despair.
I am the color of pale;
the epitome of loneliness
and the final definition
of a life tragically lost.
I am trapped inside a hollow maze,
not knowing if I want to escape.
I often wonder what my life
would be like if I lived the one I wanted.
Would I be a poet? A dancer? An artist?
An actress? All of these or none at all?
I’m hopelessly drained of all emotion.
My dreams are suffocating under glass
where I have selfishly placed them.
Don’t become like me,
raise your voice and scream
until you are heard,
get free from your entrapments
and please take a risk,
and above all, dare to dream.
Will you promise to do this for me?
©2005 by Lisa Arnold
**this is a work of creativity, this is by no means how I feel about my life:)
[/color][/size]This must be the thousandth time, I have rode
home on this crowded musty bus
and this is the first time, I believe, I ever noticed
the agony of despair and the desolation
of loneliness plastered on the nameless faces,
I scarcely take notice of.
I am barely breathing among them,
living a fruitless mundane life
so very unalike the one’s they lead.
How many times have I said,
“Good Morning and have a nice evening”
without really meaning it?
I could disappear and no one
would ever take notice.
I am no longer a person.
I am a mere shadow on the wall,
a brief silhouette in the hollow of night,
an unheard whisper in the wind.
I am the subject
of any Sylvia Plath poem.
I am the reason why people write
stories of despair.
I am the color of pale;
the epitome of loneliness
and the final definition
of a life tragically lost.
I am trapped inside a hollow maze,
not knowing if I want to escape.
I often wonder what my life
would be like if I lived the one I wanted.
Would I be a poet? A dancer? An artist?
An actress? All of these or none at all?
I’m hopelessly drained of all emotion.
My dreams are suffocating under glass
where I have selfishly placed them.
Don’t become like me,
raise your voice and scream
until you are heard,
get free from your entrapments
and please take a risk,
and above all, dare to dream.
Will you promise to do this for me?
©2005 by Lisa Arnold
**this is a work of creativity, this is by no means how I feel about my life:)
and 
all
time for me 
echoes, hope you all are doing well 
