The Doormat’s Chronicles

Back on the poem train! An amazing read for you today. A story about a young boy struggling with self and group identity. Titled “The Doormat’s Chronicles.” Enjoy!!!

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I realize I have been chasing the make up and not the artist
I chase her validation so much I lose sight of whose validation matters
Consumed by the make up rather than what it’s made of
Contouring at every stroke of the brush
Now all I see beside me are silhouettes, call it an eye shadow
Or maybe I’m just a reflection of the world that I shadow

Constantly moving the goalpost just so I could be part of the team
Maybe I let them take shots at me cause it’s an easy target
I pick up the loose balls just so they see my touch maps
Played ball just so I wasn’t seen as offensive
Stepped behind the line just so I wasn’t seen as defensive
Took my eye off the ball so others could meet their goal
Nudged to the ground trying to wriggle through the tackles
Now they stand outside watching me face the penalty

Oops! I guess doormats don’t get to complain about being stepped on

I asked you for your time but your answer was distance
I thought I could be the one but you made your point
I really didn’t fit into your equation
Even though I hoped our feelings would be simultaneous
But you promised him your relationship was linear
Rather than finding out why
Perhaps I should hold on to my ex
Yes, we’re still entangled
Or maybe I’m just a circle stuck in this triangle
Now every day I can’t keep my line straight
I guess you could call this the aftermath

Like the windows, I see through people
But like the doors, I still open up
Maybe letting my walls down is the only way I get to the roof
Someday, I hope the tables turn
But some days, the rage makes me want to flip them
Other days, I hide myself in this closet
Hoping no one seeks me

I find myself walking on coals
Only to find out they were allies hurting me from under
Burning through my sole
How cold of a soul?
Now my house is on fire with no use for the extinguisher
I watch it all burn to the ground
Maybe the incineration will weed out the deceit
And someday, like the phoenix, I will rise from the ashes

Oops! I guess doormats don’t get to complain about being stepped on

Some days I just bump out the noise with the sounds
Streaming my wreaking thoughts so hard like a broken record
These dark clouds keep recommending suicide beats
Some days, they sell me the whole album
Frankly, one day they might hit platinum with me
Because I’m so off track
I don’t think I can outshine these thoughts like the diamond

Growing up, I couldn’t stand my peers cause all they did was pierce
I still feel the hurt
Miss John said if I stood up often in class, I’d gain some confidence
No, I lost more every time she stared me in the face
Stuttering on every word on the page like a toddler
Hoping she would put me out of my misery
But she didn’t, she allowed the horrors carry on

Sometimes I still hear them cackling and chuckling in my head
Their ridiculous whispers raising my anxiety
I failed her again, I failed myself more
Today, I’m out here trying to impress her
Trying to outdo myself so she might be finally proud of me
Maybe she’d finally smile at the man I have become
That she’d finally read my words than hear them
Deep down, I’m still that little boy who had his wings clipped out

Oops! I guess doormats don’t get to complain about being stepped on

Like an OAP, every day, I put my life on air
Like the universe, I throw everything in the air
Hoping someone catches my doses of confetti
Like the Legend, I give them all of me
So I let my darkest thoughts air out
Hoping if they saw my heart, they will embrace my love
Trading my mind for their trust
But that trust was always sent to dust

I thought if I smiled more, you’d find me happy
I thought if I remained recluse, you’d find me intriguing
I thought if I talked more, you wouldn’t see my insecurities
I thought if I made jokes, you would like my company
I thought if I listened more, you would open up your heart
I thought if I was bold, you wouldn’t see my fears
If I was flawless, you would make me sweep the floor less
If I was smart, maybe you would finally find me attractive
If I earned more, maybe you would finally give me my flowers
But now it’s as clear as day, I will never be enough

Oops! I guess doormats don’t get to complain about being stepped on

WRITTEN BY: DANNY

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