In My Own Head

I’m too sensitive for this shit,

waiting for replies

leaves me feeling disposed,

feeling hated

like the world

actually owed me something

and all my friends

had nothing better to do,

but like so many other things,

this is just in my head,

just beyond my reach,

locked behind my eyes

and between my ears

where all these thoughts

trigger things that don’t even make sense.

All I am sometimes

is the person I’m trying to be,

this vessel of anger

hunting down the right excuses

and trying to see the light.


About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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