I’m a master at convincing,
A doctor of deceit,
A magical manipulator,
All for survival’s sake.
Because if you believe you need me
Maybe you’ll refrain from leaving,
So I can believe for a moment
My life even matters.
If I let you use me,
Maybe you’ll convince me
I’m good for something…
Something useful at least.
The emptiness and pain only grow
If you need me for nothing.
An unneeded life slowly withers away
And is swallowed by deafening isolation
So here I sit,
waiting, wasting away
wanting to be needed
dying to be used again.
2 comments:
This poem makes me sad... really sad. I can identify with it, and I also don't think you want to be used. I think you want someone to care for and to be cared by - intimacy, love, connection.
Thank you for your openness.
Thanks for your recent responses to my blog posts, Laurie. I so appreciate your willingness to engage much of what I've been offering in this space. You're right...I don't truly long to be used, but it is difficult to remain in the place of hopeful expectation for mutuality when such encounters have been so limited throughout life. This poem came out of an experience in internship where I saw myself through the words and reflections of another. This whole internship experience has been quite disruptive and revealing. Thanks again for your thoughts!
Post a Comment