I hear their voices
beyond the wooden door fame
They begin to laugh
as they mention my average looks
and my OK talents
I am not what they expected me to be
I shout at them
"I'm sorry" I have disappointed you
As I shout they torture me with their silence
It kills me to know that
I can not surpass their expectations of me
I fall to the cold tile floor
and hold myself as I cry next to the door
It begins to rain and their voices grow
more intense as the storm picks up ...
alone hearing the rain outside
I exhale with relief
feeling safe in my sanitary now
"It was all a dream"
I think out loud to myself
....But then the voices pick up again.
Click here to post comments
Join in and write your own page! It's easy to do. How? Simply click here to return to Submit a Poem.