I Am


I Am

I Am (Nevermore)


Who raps upon this door?

"Go away." I long to say,

But the words, caught, a lump

In my throat.

I know it is you;

Under the streetlight smiling

Your casual gloat.

Ego bloated, buffered with buffoonery;

You seek me out and will again

Six months, a year from now,

Whenever you need to dig your claws in

Deep, you need to feel them embedded

Underneath my skin.

But, like the lost Lenore, I am


sad poetry
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Read next: I Am A Bullet.
Jen Chichester

Jen Chichester is a misfit toy who enjoys learning, reading, and writing about anything oddball, eccentric, eclectic, mysterious, mystic, mythical, magical, and macabre. She has published a few poetry books and has more in the works!

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