Born Broken
Why, I ask God, why
Why was I born broken
A dollar store gift with parts that didn’t fit, sometimes I feel like a token
Not like you and the next
Longing to be like the rest
To be loved and adorned like a treasure chest
I’m Vincent van Gogh
Not appreciated until I'm gone
Yet I remain strong
Trying to display
Strength and art
Till the day I part
But lack of exposure and love
Have me feeling like a void check torn apart
Some say we signed up for this experience
If so I wonder why I’d do this to my own heart
About the Creator
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More stories from Kenneth cruz and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Whiskered War
A domestic drama; rather, you're witnessing a millennium-old conflict over the fate of the entire planet (and possibly just a smA titanic struggle between wits and strength has been raging in the shadows for millennia: The Great Nibble vs. The Purrsecution. The cats, the furry fighters, the fascists of the feline world, occupy one corner. In the other, mice make up the squeaky squad, the small militia. The reward? Domination over the entire world (and possibly an especially tasty cheese wheel).
By Richard Weber2 days ago in Humor
Comments (2)
Nice poem. I used to ask myself a lot of questions. Feeling as if I was born with bad luck. I love your poem Kenneth.
"Some say we signed up for this experience If so I wonder why I’d do this to my own heart" Many have said that to me too and I too wonder the same thing because like why would I wanna do this to myself. Loved your poem!