Not your name. Not mine.
The national vendor.
At primary school, I was known.
They laughed at me. Point me.
Dumped me like a useless toy.
The Bananacue boy.
At high school, I was very known.
Like a little mosquito with no teeth,
they stamped me very easily,
and I was hurt so badly.
The little choppy chap.
At tertiary, I’m famous in Wales.
They have eyes like a sun.
And morals like a weather here.
Treatments are unfair.
All bears are everywhere.
Stop wailing. Own the pain.
Don't lose your fame.
What will be my next name?
Copyright @2012 Lanzskie. All rights reserved.
The Author's Other Hubs
- A Poem: Don't Say It's Okay
When you knew exactly, I’m in pain!Because she dissipates and stays on someone’s life.Do you think, it’ll be all right?Do you believe I deserve a better creature?Even what I thought, she’s just the best.Is there far better than the best?So please, do
- A Poem: What Kind Of Fool I Am
I bestowed my heart to you effortlessly Others will do right to hold me tight But in you, I have made transitions I love you so that’s why I need you so I’ll understand you with your hang-ups, I’ll accept your vigor and your frailties And that’s why
- A Poem: The Dream
At 19, I had a dream. There’s two-way roads. Mysterious. Silent. Other with deafening sounds. I turned my torch on. Observing things around. Where am I? It’s midnight. I’m nowhere to find.
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