Isolation

It is a strange feeling,
One I have never felt before,
Around people I consider friends,
I feel suddenly all alone.

I have never noticed this feeling,
Not until now,
It is almost as if,
I don't know who they are.

I bear no grudges with them,
In fact we get on well,
Yet I feel odd around them,
As if I do not belong.

Maybe this feeling is in my mind,
Or it is a problem that is only temporary,
I just hope it goes away soon,
I miss being able to enjoy my friends company.

Yet it seems to be growing,
This terrible feeling of isolation,
It seems that they are my friends no more,
And their friendship was just a figment of my imagination.

Heartbreak

As I see you walking down the road,
My heart begins to rejoice,
You make me feel strange inside,
In my mind, I hear this wonderful voice.

Yet, I see some stranger with you,
You are walking arm-in-arm,
I hope it is not what it looks like,
But the voice disappears amongst sounds of alarm.

You look into each others eyes,
In what is clearly a loving gaze,
You notice me not as you walk by me,
This sight is causing me heartbreak.

I knew that this moment would come,
Yet, it still comes as a complete suprise,
Afterall, what would you see in a boy like me,
Who can barely cross his t's and dot his i's.

I am not foolish enough to suggest that I don't care,
But it is true that I do not begrudge you your happiness,
You are the love of my life and if this is what you want,
Then it is what I want, even if it means you cannot be my sweetness.

Friends?

Anger, hatred, annoyance, resentment, exasperation, outrage, fury, displeasure, loathing, detestation, animosity, enmity, irritation, vexation.

Why do friends sometimes make us feel these things?
Are they not there to be trusted?
Or are they there just to annoy us?
To make us feel angry and exasperated,
Surely they are there to support us?
Not to make snide comments behind your back,
Or to make fun of you,
Just to be popular,
Just to be part of the crowd.

Why do friends sometimes backstab each other?
What is achieved by this?
Nothing at all,
Common sense tells us that friends should be helpful,
And supportive in times of trouble,
Yet to me it seems the opposite,
They seem to make things worse,
Stating the obvious,
Making themselves sound clever,
Since they are not in the same trouble as me.

Are all friends this way?
If someone has the answer please tell me.

(I asked a man called John Silkstone on Bebo to review some of my early poetry and he said this poem was one worthy of publication in his magazine - it was only the tenth poem I'd ever written).

Dreams & Chances (With a Tinge of Relief)

Finally,
You notice me at last!
Even though it's not face to face,
It makes my heart swell with joy!
I get this strange feeling in my stomach,
Butterflies,
Just reading the message you left,
Even though it's only a hello,
It's enough to make me punch the air in delight,
Enough to make me wonder,

What if?

I try not to get too excited,
But the joy inside me has reached a crescendo,
As I read the message again,
I see a lone x at the end of it.
That one x means more to me,
Then all the others I have ever received put together,
For it tells me that,
Maybe, maybe,
I have a chance,
Yet still I must ask,

Is it possible?
Only in your dreams, is a reply.
Well I say,
It's nice to dream.

Charlie's Last Day

Charlie woke up very depressed,
He couldn't be bothered to get dressed,
He wants to stay in bed until the end of time,
Alas! He had to be up before the clock struck nine.

The love of his life has messed him around,
He loves her still, her voice is like a cloud,
Her looks could kill, her gaze is warm,
He loves her still, even though she was wrong.

He had to be up, he had to work,
He didn't want to go, she was the clerk,
They work all day in the same place,
But he dares not look at her beautiful face.

She cheated on Charlie with his friend,
A person who used to help pay the rent,
Charlie had known him all his life,
But between them now, there was nothing but strife.

Charlie woke up very depressed,
But now he has found eternal rest,
He is bothered no more by the love of his life,
And all it took was the stroke of a knife.