fifty ways
there’s something
terribly wrong with me
it seems everyone knows
what it is but me
I ask the doctor
what the hell could it be
I don’t know he says
try talking to your friends
sleepless friends whisper
empty promises
and in the morning
those promises live on
october two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved






That’s not a doctor, (otherwise, he wouldn’t refer the patient no nonprofessionals) those are not friends (otherwise they wouldn’t be whispering — emtpy promises at that) and there’s nothing wrong with the persona talking in this poem. S/he’s different. His/her friends are all different. But they all need acceptance and acknowledgement. But they all don’t want to acknowledge this.
yes, there’s certainly something peculiar going on 😀
powerful and deep
thank you
I often feel this way…
not the best place to be but makes us stronger nonetheless