The Outside

          On the outside, that’s where I’m at.
In another world is where I’m trapped.

Look on the inside, such happy people,
But I’m on the outside.

They walk down streets with a kick in their step.
But I’m on the outside.

The talk and understand, cry, receive a hand.
But I’m on the outside, all alone.

They run and play and seize the day.
But I’m on the outside, all alone.

The children laugh and have fun, while old people walk, or jog, or run.
But I’m on the outside, in the dark.

Festivals in July, a baby’s first cry.
But I’m on the outside, in the dark.

A newlywed’s dance, a young man’s glance.
But I’m on the outside, and weep.

Winter’s first snow and summer’s bright glow.
But I’m on the outside, in the cold.

Inside I see the life I could have had, should have had.
But I’m stuck outside, in the cold.

Inside people love and sing and dance,
But I’m stuck on the outside, in the cold.

The newlyweds grow old and die together.
But I go on living, because I’m on the outside.
All I can do is weep and cry as the joy inside passes by.

                                 

Comments

hartbreaker

This poem is one of many that I have. Not all of them are as depressing but they are all in about this kind of style.

currently_liddell

I like it I think there are some spots that need a little work just the wording kind of doesnt make sence but I really like it other wise. And in my opinion being on the outside can be fun so keep your chin up sweetheart.

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