Small, lonely,
Down to earth.
Controlled and pitied,
Shamed since birth.
A ‘loser’ in this world,
Trying to find his place.
Not too slow to keep-up,
But forced to give-up the chase.
Always the underdog,
Scorned and teased by his mates.
Deprived of what he likes, and forced
To be proud of what he hates.
Scared and confused,
Searching blindly in the haze,
For someone to hold his hand,
Someone to guide him through the maze.
His mother disappointed,
His father ashamed.
They didn’t teach him to smile,
But for the frown he was blamed.
Walking behind them,
Only now struggling to keep the pace.
While they made excuses,
And called him their lost-case.
He was the ugly-duckling,
And not the black sheep.
A mere late bloomer,
If they’d bothered to look deep.
He wasn’t a ‘born-loser’,
If not a perfect ace.
Like a simple sweet song,
Which lacked the loud bass.
Searching for love,
Slowly reaching his teens.
Trying to stand-up, to stand out,
To speak-up, through all his means.
But they laughed and smirked.
They told him, he lacked the grace.
And so began the doubt, the wish
That somehow, himself he could replace.
Why when he was sad,
There was no one to care.
Why when he was happy, if ever,
There was no one to share.
He was now tired,
Tired of questioning empty space.
He couldn’t go any further,
No more could he stand the disgrace.
Awaking one evening,
Drenched in his own sweat.
Squinting out the window,
Though the sun had set.
The people around him looked scared,
And strangely out of place.
As he lay, in a pool of his own blood
A smile lighting his face.
Speeding through scenes and colours,
As though running past dreams.
Oblivious to the people helping him,
And the sobs and screams.
They were finally there,
With their world at his feet.
But they couldn’t keep-up,
With his slow heart-beat.
He at-last felt loved
As he felt death’s embrace.
No-one could catch-up,
As loser won the race.
2 comments:
A great job of describing how someone who has always been 'under-estimated' feels like. The desperation and pain of the 'underdog' is palpable. I could associate with this poem as I have been through all this. Always the underdog, always being taken advantage of. At one point it made me lose hope in niceness; I thought why shouldn't I resort to violence to earn respect...Anyway, beautiful work. Keep it up. Cheers.
I know exactly what you mean. Though I wrote the poem because I've been there, but I myself do not think it's the answer.
Anyway, thank you for taking out the time to read the poem and for your compliments...
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