Written by Rebekah O Reilly |
Published on:

They hate the way that I just know who I am and it’s not up for discussion.

They love the way that when they talk down to me.

It makes them feel powerful.

I feel the way I feel about society because it stands on a crumbling foundation.

I speak with a lack of words,

I live with a self confidence that burns.

Then, Lackluster and green with envy, I confessed. 

And I apologized for all mistakes cemented in our minds. 

Ones I’d made, ones I’d not, even mistakes that weren’t mine.

Because somehow losing my pride and sacrificing myself,

Seemed like a better idea than fighting. 

Somehow I found peace in the wreckage I had become, 

And once again I was myself.


Copyright © TravelDailyLife.com

Form of Poetry

Prose Poetry

Author: Rebekah O Reilly
My name is Rebekah O’Reilly, and I’m 16 years old. I have been passionate about English for as long as I remember, and hope to someday become a journalist, or a poet, or an English teacher....but for now you can find me here on WriterlyWords.


Please Login to Comment
No comments have been posted. Be the first.

Hire a Writer