Anonymous Poetry

It festered inside him, It boiled and rose to the rim. So he swallowed his bile, Before he could turn vile. He felt the jealousy rise But he made it recede. He knew it was wise To not let it proceed. She was what he yearned, He did not dare speak a word For what he had learned. He did not lust for her, He loved her for her mind. He hoped that she might find, Him as he had found her. But, at this he laughed. He laughed so cruelly But it was truly A laugh at himself. He was mad, deranged, insane. He knew love, or so he thought But he was A Delusional Idiot.

He hoped that someone might love him, That love might be what he was in need. But he knew this thought was just a whim. But his love is like a weed. It grows thick and strong, And doesn’t take long. But it grows in the worst place possible, On the surface of the world, From which he has been hurled. To reach his love it is impossible.