Poem: Dull Tongue – 15/09/20

I must move on,
my tongue, dull and tired, can no longer remain clipped.
I must move forth, in realising I am deserving of much more.
I must step forward, understanding that I am worthy,
I am priceless,
I must go on, because I am strong,
I am wise,
and I must exercise this intelligence.

For many hours, I sat here bubbling and brewing,
angrily explaining how I have been made to feel.
For many a-time I have expounded over and over
exactly how actions or inaction cause me to believe
negative things about myself,
that my presence is merely humoured,
and I cannot help but feel insulted,
when something apparently more interesting came along –
there goes the desire for this contemplative yet fiery poet.

But I must understand there is little point in chasing after Disinterest,
little point in tapping him on the shoulder repeatedly,
why, that would be remiss,
because why humour that character,
why allow him my attentiveness,
in doing so,
this will mentally continue to take me down,
and I cannot have that,
I must retain my level of sparkling self-confidence,
my golden shining crown.

I think it’s odd how easily I’ve been cast aside,
how love could be expressed in this loveless kind of way,
but in another way, I am rather happy I’ve discovered this so early,
how easily I can be replaced,
although the other will scream I’m not being replaced,
that they are simply occupying themselves,
keeping themselves entertained.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Hugo Jehanne on Unsplash

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