How I Feel

Alt title: "Little Me"
a poem about how I feel and my disgust at others apathy.

This poem is an attempt to convey how I feel about everything and has been inspired by my life so far. Everything in this is true, though edited for style. I got the idea about a year ago by writing a few lines, and the rest just kind of came together. It's been a work in progress since then. It could still use minor work, but I'm pretty proud of it. Enjoy!

I saw a girl once on the bus; she sat across from me.
She hummed a song; I thought she had a pretty voice.
But then she plugged into a phone, and the things she said were awful,
And I thought that it was sad, since she had a lovely voice.

I saw another girl; it was my freshman year.
She was outside my apartment being told off by some guy.
She wanted him to stop, but he would have his say,
So he told her how he hated her and then went on his way.

I saw some other girls; they were in a heard.
They were in sororities, perhaps enough is said?
In waves they walked past, oblivious of me.
The thing that got to me the most was how they looked the same.

I saw one of these girls; it was on the show Cheaters.
She met a guy once at a bar then dumped him at the same.
You'd think they would have noticed, time and time again,
But all they ever look for is someone for their bed.

I never did a thing to them, but they called me antisocial.
I would have loved them till the end, but they thought that I would kill.
Sometimes I wonder "am I alone"? Are all of them the same?
Do all the fools attract? Are each of them insane?

My roommates, they are boring folk; I can't relate to them.
They plug into game consoles; oblivious till the end.
I go away to class, and there they sit engulfed.
I come back hours later, and they haven't moved an inch.

I was in the Marketplace; it was the governor's debate.
It was in our Student Union; the entire state would see.
The others, I had thought, would surely stay informed,
But Comedy Central was all that they would watch.

I think sometimes that I have something others cannot see.
They get far too distracted to notice little me.
In circles they entrench themselves, plugged into this and that,
And they wouldn't even notice if I never did come back.

All around me people dwell on lots of stupid things,
And the things that matter most are the things that go unseen.
About wars in places few have been; of children in Sudan;
Of atrocities too great to tell, and all I do is weep.

I wish sometimes that I could be something I've never been;
I'd change the world and all could see the things which were unsaid.
About life and love and liberty; how God's goodness fills the earth;
These things which are the simplest are the things I love the most.

But who would hear me? Who would care? These people that I meet;
They're all plugged in, oblivious, to the things which I have seen.
I think sometimes that I will see a better place than this,
If only I could graduate, if that even exists.

And sometimes people ask me how I feel and such,
And all I say is "tired", but even that's too much.
For the people who are asking don't really want to know.
It's all just conversation, who's turn is next is king.

And since the things that matter most are things that go unsaid,
I thought that I'd explain a bit by writing this instead.
Perhaps I've ranted on too long; I had been on a role,
But now at least I've tried, and so this poem is done.

Although this has potential, some work it still could use,
For the ending still is lacking, and I haven't got a clue.
And if you are a roommate, be not offended much,
For here I generalized, for that artistic touch.

copyright David Martin Oct 14, 2007 (