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Defining me
by Christopher ShinThe plane flickers
with blue and red.
I drive away from the
scene.
As I flee back
into my own desperation.
I douse my heart
into the wine.
I burn my tongue
as I try to figure
out the meaning
of being me.
When I'm not the
hero or the villain
of my fiction.
All I do is sit
and watch the
world slip on by,
and all I can
do is get bumped
and purpled.
And it isn't fair
that I would do
this to myself,
and I have
become the nobody. 05/31/2010 Posted on 05/31/2010
Copyright © 2024 Christopher Shin
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 06/04/10 at 03:42 AM This poem, though sad, has hope as it is always possible to re-define. Definitions are sometimes created, given, or just evolve. This poem really makes the reader empathize and introspect at the same time. Thanks for sharing. |
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