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I tremble in my uncertainty
I fear the daylight
The breezes I hear around me
Make my heart beat fast

I would hide away
And conceal my faults
But I lack the courage
To hide or to speak out

I am condemned to perish
Alone and without friends
In an fierce storm
Of my own making

Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


sounds very powerful when i read it aloud.
i feel all the emotion in here.
sadly many people especially at this time of year and again especially in this the covid period many can relate

the end of your poem seems its self inflicted in this case. thought provoking.

Thank you...Teddy

What a kind comment.

author comment

Do not be afraid to be who you are. Besides, you will be someone different tomorrow! I am in my seventies and I have spent seven decades finding out who I am everyday! We don't have to announce our faults to the world in order to be accepted or rejected. What we do have to do, is work on what we percieve to be our faults; not what others think they are. You will learn much about yourself during your years of life, [which I hope are many]; and should not let others tell you who to be. If you do this, you will find that in the end, you will love yourself much more. By the way, I really like the thought that was put into this. You should have a bright future as a poet if you keep writing. Welcome to Neo. ~ Geezer.

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Thank you for your kind words. Fear not, I am not at all lonely.

author comment

Hi Dandini, your poem is powerful and quite grim. It sounds as if the author has had, or is having, panic attacks. Is that so? I have had these scary attacks for about 30 years, so I can emphasize, if that's what your poem is about. One's heart beats so fast!
We often feel that we have created our own storm, but that would be only partly true, as storms surround us everywhere.
I see that you're English. My parents were English, except for my father who was a Scot. They lived in England for a long time before coming to Argentina.
Welcome to Neopoet and I hope you continue to share your poems. Everybody is helpful here, like a family.
All the best, Gracy

"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

Dear Anglo-Argentinian Gracy: Thank you for your kind comment.

author comment
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