The Leeches

August 17, 2009
By Jacob Roundy BRONZE, Cicero, New York
Jacob Roundy BRONZE, Cicero, New York
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

My soul is hollowed out
Not by the nightmares
Dreamt in self-slumber

No.

'Tis the weightless
tricking the weighted misguided fools
crawling amongst the corridors.
Hiding in the shadows, they wait.

Happiness and love, they say.
Happiness and love.
But all they bring to the table
is naught.
Waiting to spring.

Upon us, they eat.
Upon us, they chew.
Upon us, they leech.

Chameleons.
Forever changing,
adapting, stealing,
slashing and burning.

They do not leave a trace of what they stole.
My personality, ripped.
My soul, diminished.
My heart, torn out.
I am not them, but them am I.

We are the baited.
They are the predators.
We are the weighted.
They are the weightless.

True emotion...
to be felt universally, is but a miracle.
It is not fantasy that frightens me,
but the artificial leeches that await my arrival
when I awaken.

The author's comments:
I wrote this piece because I was sick of people stealing other people's personalities. It speaks about not being yourself, and the awful pain of seeing all of these fake people, who don't want to admit what they really are like. The message of this poem is to be yourself.

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