Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

Within my own illusion

Why does it take
A crowded room for me to realize I’m invisible?
At least to myself

I hear my own voice when I speak to people
But I’m unaware if they actually hear
What I’m saying

It’s almost like, I’m in my own illusion
Floating above the room filled with people
Watching everyone laughing
Hugging and just being happy

Eventually,
I
Float
back
down

Everything goes silent
And I realize, I am in fact
Alone

Is it just a pipe dream?
Or will I one day, feel alive again?

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

John Donne's "No Man is an island" meditation comes to mind as I read your poem that also makes a point against "isolation" from your fellow-man.
"No man is an island, entirely of itself," will be my thought for the day, especially after reading your self-reflective poem. You are not alone, dear sister. Nice reflective, thoughtful write,
Jerry

>
>
>Please visit my website: www.jerrykspoetry.com

Thank you, i wondered how it would come across, I show all my stuff to my husband once it's written and he always tells me that my writing reminds him of an italian poet called Giuseppe Ungaretti, "i'm a women and from London" How funny....
I find myself quite overwhelmed sometimes with all the kindness i recieve for my work. This was a totally inspired write from another poetess here, and i am proud of what has come out. No man is an island indeed, although sometimes just for a bit we would all like to be, it's just that sometimes, i let my heart spill onto my writes, and i just remember feeling incredibly lost in my life once and this is how it felt. As always its a pleasure to have you grace my page and i do thank you for your generosity of kind words.

Thank you...Teddy

author comment

Dear Teddy, apart from John Donne, your poem also reminds me of Argentine poet Jorge Luis Borges. The latter was always composing about mirrors, illusions, who am I? And much more.
Yes, we sometimes feel invisible, I certainly have. BTW, floating above everyone is like when you have an other wordly experience in the operating theatre. I did once, but it was later on in bed...it was scary!
The title, spacing and content are all fine. As usual, I'd tweak out some words, but that's me. Enjoyed, 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

I have tweaked, thank you, you are always helpful and I always understand what you are saying. Thank you for the compliments and for the kindness you bring to my page, you are so very appreciated.

Thank you...Teddy

author comment
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.