Honestly

.
.
.
With whom can I share?
Without judgement and persecution being there.
With whom can I live?
Open and honest, boldly and true.
Tell me, who will accept me for me...
and not a another version of you.
You, them, and all of those who use "we".
For as far as I can look back,
In this world,
There's no other like me.

Therefore,
who can understand the ineffable?
Or the plethora of thoughts that I contain.
Who can share in the weeping of my soul...
or in the solace of my inner pain.
Who even cares if I hurt... cry?
As far as "they" are concerned,
I only have myself to blame.
For being me... or even the acceptable "I".

Silhouetted memories of a time long lost.
Remembering those whom promised to forever love me...
Realizing it's from those that I was first tossed.
Easily replaced.
Often misconstrued,
randomly taken for granted,
and most certainly to be used.
Then, to be disregarded... or possibly considered upgraded from...
the naive,
easily manipulated,
a stepping stone.
Or how do "they" put it, "dumb".

The world provided
a truer friend, better father, husband,
and a more faithful son.
But yet, kept me as an example
of how life should not be done.
As a recluse, an poor excuse of each and every one.




~Flowriter