Coming Last – Written Monday 6th November 1995 (Aged 20)

Coming Last

i do not want to come last
i am not a sport , but it is not my fault
i am in a house of paranoia
with palms pressed tightly against the glass
why are you doing this to me?
why are you leaving me to the last?
you do not care, you are just weird
this is my virtual reality nightmare
i am so scared, it is everything i feared
i want to be held tight
i want the pain to go away
i cannot sleep at night
let alone manage the day
you are not even subtle with your hiding
why are you doing this?
you know you are going to lose a son
suddenly, i wonder if you are a mum
or just another someone
who is not prepared to compromise
prepared to give it all up for a few quid
take away those rose coloured glasses from your eyes
i hope one you will realise what you did
you put me last
not even second, i do not fit in
it really hurts
it is an emotional way to emotionally die
there is total over exaggeration
because i feel like i am in a fight
an impossible no win situation

More poems at

James Garratt – Monday 6th November 1995

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