Left Before She Was Found Poem by Sierra Staten

Left Before She Was Found



I often find myself wondering,
What the point of all this was?
A constant cycle of happy and depressed,
All to simply die one day.

I regret to think that I shouldn't be missed,
But how can one not think this,
When it is the sole idea expressed,
day by day?
When not a single word is spoken to me,
How am I not to feel alone?
When I belong to no group, nobody,
How am I not to feel worthless?

I have come to terms.
I am just another daughter, another rotter.
I do what I am told and that is not enough.
Happiness in life comes from things- not told, but felt.
I don't know how to feel.
I have not been told how.

I am a robot seeking acceptance among a race not accepting.
I am nothing, seeking permission to live amongst lovers, fighters, survivors.

And I most regret to inform you that I cannot fight like others do.
I have no reason.
I am already gone, or rather, I have never been found,
And that is the reason I must go.

Sunday, November 23, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: pain
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Sierra Staten

Sierra Staten

Newman, California
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