I suppose, I'm more likely than a great many people to understand,
and yet still I fall just short, I can't make myself.
Whether that is my own fault, I'm not certain.
From on high, they look down upon me, and all others like me with contempt,
for our supposed unwillingness to understand,
and yet, I want nothing more.
Their inaudible criticisms ring in my ears,
They'll humor me, and give me advice,
but they do so with feigned interest,
expecting me to fail.
Of the many terrible feelings in the world,
that is one of the worst,
when someone expects you to fail.
Do I even try or do I not?
That is the question that I now ask myself,
almost certain that I will fail,
not even worried about wasting my time,
but about wasting others.
It pains me to realize that there's something that I just can't do,
growing up being told that anything is possible,
if you only set your mind to it.
And yet, I can't understand.
I don't write it with the intent of poetry, I'll just sometimes get a certain wording stuck in my head that just explains a thought or a feeling really well, and then I'll write it down, I'll think of something else, and I just keep adding on to it. I have multiple things like this. It doesn't exactly rhyme, but not all poems rhyme. The way I've always seen this and other things I've randomly written is just as a collection of well worded thoughts.
If you do consider this a poem, I wasn't very specific when writing it, do you think it makes sense?