I like writing poetry sometimes, and I'd like to share this one with you. I wanna know how you guys interpret the meaning of it, though it is pretty obvious...
I Will Not Disappear.
You see me Like you see a shadow There but unimportant Easily ignorable Because I am so common Always there But sometimes not noticed
You hear me Like you hear the wind I’m quiet and in the background Because I don’t need Your acknowledgment Always there But sometimes not noticed
You think of me Like you think of your breathing You don’t Because I’m none Of your concern Always there But sometimes not noticed
Even though You do not notice me I’m there I have my own Ambitions and goals And I don’t need your attention To accomplish them
But I will not disappear For someday You will notice me I will be more Than a shadow Or the wind Or a breath
I will be A blinding ray of light A hurricane An asthma attack I will be there And you will not Be able to ignore me
But until then I am happy With being in the background But I will not disappear
Wow.That was good ^^ I'm pretty sure it's death, correct?
Umm...I guess I could see how that would work, like death is always there, and you only know it when you die or are close to dying, but what I wrote this for was totally different.
The way the poem can be explained is with one sentence...
"Someday, I'll be famous, but for now, I'm fine with being ignored."
I've always been told that it's not how you start, it's how you finish. So I put that into this poem. Because I'm not known by a large mass of people right now, and even in school, I'm rarely recognized. But someday, I aspire to be a famous voice actress, with a bunch of loving fans. If I can achieve that goal, then I'm fine with my status right now.
That's the message I tried to put into it. So yeah, it's not all that deep, but it's true.
Well, here's another one...I'll think this'll be my poem thread.
My dear backpack, how mean could you be? You swallow all of my things and don't give them back to me! Like the project last month, and the term paper last year, and every single little trinket, that I hold so dear!
Your zippers never zip, and you're always such a mess! How could something made to be helpful cause me so much stress!?
I don't know what to do with you! How mean could you be? Maybe I'll get a new backpack, one not quite as mean as thee.
