Doormat
The pain of rejection
Is the greatest pain of all.
It hurts so much inside
To be shunned by the one
Whom you blindly adore.
No matter how long
You wait for him,
Right on your face
He slams the door.
He doesn’t want to chat
With a plain doormat
He’d rather wipe his shoes on;
Having no special charm
From the day he bought;
He spares no time
In sentimental talk;
Yet why is it that
He discards me not?
Is it that I’m firm
And not worn out?
But alas! he sadly
Considers it not.
It’s a good thing
I’ve forgotten my voice
Coughing up the mud
Under his feet;
He needn’t bother to
Silence me down anymore.
And tears are wasted
In the pouring rain,
That drenches me whole
Once again.
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