I wish he was interested in what I had to say.
Not in the broad sense, because in general he is.
But sometimes I stop my words because no one will care if I say them or don't.
Am I this alien? Too sensitive, maybe. Lost in my own head.
But I can watch my words hit no mark and flutter out the window like trash along the highway.
Why speak at all. More dignified to just sit quietly and let my thoughts reabsorb.
But it's salt in the wound you know? and I don't even know which one
it just stings.
About the Creator
Kooper Shagena
hi :) I write short stories and poetry about emotions, experiences, and interactions with the universe, others, and nature!
Most my stories are fictional, but some are my real life experiences as I remember them.
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Ode to Water
In the realm of the flowing streams, where the rivers dance and the oceans sing, there lies a world of wonder a world of water, vast and boundless, where the ebb and flow of the tides mark the rhythm of life itself. And in this world of water, there exists a poet a seeker of truth and beauty, whose words paint pictures of the sea and sky, of rain and rivers, of the ever-changing landscape of the liquid realm.
By Michael smith2 days ago in Poets
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