Why the confusion?
When a person you admire gets admiration of too many and that gets you jealous…
No this is not a poem for all those lost
This is not for the magazines that cost.
It’s because he got me irritated,
Anger through words will be dissipated.
And so she bestowed upon me this virtue,
Though she herself of poetry, has no clue.
“Why?!” I scream “Why?”
As upon the comments that register praises of him.
I know I’m jealous and my chances to show are slim.
I cannot reach or touch him like another,
I’m oceans apart and distance does matter.
He doesn’t know what started this.
Probably I’ve gotten curious and that’s the price
I don’t write poems often, but she started it in me.
She makes me write because of the anger I see..
If I chose to destruct, I could, easily..
But what difference would that be?
No, I chose to write sentences, not rhymes.
But now I find myself clogged with chimes.
I do not hate poetry, but this unknown jealousy…
That’s oozing out faster as I see people praise him
He’s my friend not theirs….
Or so I thought till I heard the applause.
He knows not what he started,
Confusion in my mind.
I’ll hide him in my wings,
So that no one could find.
Possessive as time seems to train me.
We’re all God’s children, one big family.
She gave me the gift of writing poems..
All for what? To admire a man who knows me not.
