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a surplus of famine
by Vikki Owensthere is a disconnect.
i am given much, and taken care of.
i am loved by many, and liked by more.
i have a One, who is devoted and generous,
i have a family who has placed me on a pedestal.
i am complimented and lavished with affection at times,
i am built up enthusiastically as a pillar of my social circles,
a strength to be relied on, and hands are outreached to me with offers of support.
and yet..
there is a hollowness inside me that cannot believe in true gestures.
there is a constant loneliness that is persistantly untouchable by human interaction.
there is not a person in this life that is able to convince me of a true emotion.
i close my doors against those who try to touch me,
yet desperately ask to be touched.
i would want to tunnel into someones love and bury myself there,
yet i am truly already buried, if i would allow myself to be.
i have somehow managed to become a drought amidst a flood.
11/21/2012 Posted on 11/21/2012
Copyright © 2025 Vikki Owens
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 11/21/12 at 09:31 PM Very poignant piece. Perhaps depression is at work here? |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 11/22/12 at 10:19 PM ...like dawn says a moving piece; have you tried FACEBOOK nahahahahahhahahahahahah i just kill me. vicki, you speak eloquently offfffff,our own inhumanity to our person. we sift on ourselves because of our wonderfully huge big-brain disease (that of a quandry of identity).sorta a form of "what's it all about, Alfie". |
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