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    WolfM
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Ravings of a Rabid Werewolf - Poetry by Wolf - 9. Alone

This is one of my earliest attempts at poetry that I still have. It was written 5 years ago. I thought about editing and changing it some, but figured I'd let it stand on its own as it was written.

The club is packed with people,

And the lights are flashing bright.

The young dancer makes his way on stage

While feeling of loneliness close in on him tight.

 

He does his job before the crowd;

Doing his best to give a good show.

Piece by piece his clothes strips down

And the tips quickly begin to flow.

 

The dancer hides behind his smile;

The darkness held within.

Alone in a crowd of people he holds back

The tears that threaten to begin.

 

Even though they watch his every move

They choose to not even see;

How lonely the dancer surrounded by people

Really seems to be.

 

There’s darkness in the dancer’s eyes

The storm is now raging strong;

Like thunder and lightning in his mind

He doesn’t know how long he can hold on.

 

As much as the boy loves to dance

By himself he can find no glee.

He counts down the minutes until he’s done;

Just waiting till he can flee.

 

He’s finished his job and pleased the crowd,

And the night is finally done.

He rushes to leave the stage and finds piece

Before his emotions have totally won.

 

By himself once again the storm lets loose

He finely begins to cry;

Wishing he had at least one single friend

Another small part of his soul starts to die.

 

Like a ghost in the night he disappears from sight

Into the darkness he manages to blend.

He know no one will miss that he’s gone

He just wishes the loneliness would end.

This was 4 months before my last suicide attempt when everything seemed dark, no matter where I looked. I didn't realize I was writing a call for help and neither did anyone who read it at the time.
Copyright © 2017 WolfM; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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I love how this poem explores the contrast of a public face, being in a public world, and how isolated and alone we can feel inside. This really speaks to me. It's beautiful 

 

I'm glad you shared it. 

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Yes, i agree with AC, Wolfie. The duality is heartbreaking. I'm glad you didn't change, it's very good, raw and heartrending. 

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i'm glad you didn't edit this. the pain, the loneliness, the craving to connect is very evident and reaches out. to be so alone within a group cuts so deep.  i'm sorry no one heard your cries, but am happy you fought, won and are able to share this dark but beautiful piece with us. keep fighting. keep writing. but most of all keep sharing.

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WolfM--

 

i had a friend who was a dancer, i can see her in this.

this was in a time before cell phones, she'd call, in tears, from the pay phone in the "locker room" asking me to call the manager, pretending to be the babysitter, so she could leave early.

we went to watch her one night, and it was so very sad

i see her in this, in every stanza, 

she did have us, but there weren't any others

 

saying thank you doesn't seem enough when writers share of themselves this deeply, but those are the only words i have

so thank you, for sharing this part of you, with us

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This is painful Sir. The loneliness and honesty. Knowing the patrons just see a piece of meat. Concentrating on only their gratification. Not seeing a person who holds pain, fears, dreams.

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As others have commented, the contrast between public and private is well done. A very sad poem, but also powerful! Thank you.

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On 8/22/2017 at 5:26 PM, AC Benus said:

I love how this poem explores the contrast of a public face, being in a public world, and how isolated and alone we can feel inside. This really speaks to me. It's beautiful 

 

I'm glad you shared it. 

Thank you AC.  I never really considered it exploring those things before, but I guess it does :)   I always thought it was too long and my writing professor suggested I do something a little less melodramatic.

Edited by WolfM
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On 8/22/2017 at 5:29 PM, Mikiesboy said:

Yes, i agree with AC, Wolfie. The duality is heartbreaking. I'm glad you didn't change, it's very good, raw and heartrending. 

Thank you tim.  After so long, it just didn't seem right to modify or edit it.  Probably the only poem I've written with the same raw emotion as this is the one that followed 4 months later and it probably isn't something that would be appropriate for me to post.  :hug:

Edited by WolfM
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On 8/22/2017 at 5:42 PM, mogwhy said:

i'm glad you didn't edit this. the pain, the loneliness, the craving to connect is very evident and reaches out. to be so alone within a group cuts so deep.  i'm sorry no one heard your cries, but am happy you fought, won and are able to share this dark but beautiful piece with us. keep fighting. keep writing. but most of all keep sharing.

Thank you moogy.  The loneliness was more self inflicted as I pushed people away on my downward spiral.  To be honest, I had stopped fighting soon after this and gave in to the darkness.  Thankfully I found my way back though.

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23 hours ago, mollyhousemouse said:

WolfM--

 

i had a friend who was a dancer, i can see her in this.

this was in a time before cell phones, she'd call, in tears, from the pay phone in the "locker room" asking me to call the manager, pretending to be the babysitter, so she could leave early.

we went to watch her one night, and it was so very sad

i see her in this, in every stanza, 

she did have us, but there weren't any others

 

saying thank you doesn't seem enough when writers share of themselves this deeply, but those are the only words i have

so thank you, for sharing this part of you, with us

Thank you molly.  I guess being able to express my emotions when I wrote this was the only benefit to the depression (it's nice that I can joke about it now).

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22 hours ago, avidreadr said:

It hurts to read this.  It reflects the reality for so many people, not just dancers.

Thank you Avid :hug:  Very true.  The isolation I felt, the loneliness followed me everywhere, no matter the size of the crowd I was around. 

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21 hours ago, BlindAmbition said:

This is painful Sir. The loneliness and honesty. Knowing the patrons just see a piece of meat. Concentrating on only their gratification. Not seeing a person who holds pain, fears, dreams.

Thank you jp.  It really isn't much different from when I dance at clubs now.  Go-Go boy/stripper is there for the visual.  At least now I can emotionally deal with the groping and other issues that come up.  They still don't care about the person they're tipping as long as the visuals are good and I do my job of flirting with them.  Trying to do that when you feel empty, smiling when you want to find a dark spot and cry is really hard. 

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6 hours ago, JeffreyL said:

As others have commented, the contrast between public and private is well done. A very sad poem, but also powerful! Thank you.

Thank you Jeff.  A mask of happiness in public and emotional wreck in private.

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The public, outer mask, trying vainly to protect the inner self is a tragic story, and you tell it so well here. Each stanza paints the scene darker, even as the bright lights and music blare in the images you paint. 

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On 9/21/2017 at 7:22 PM, Parker Owens said:

The public, outer mask, trying vainly to protect the inner self is a tragic story, and you tell it so well here. Each stanza paints the scene darker, even as the bright lights and music blare in the images you paint. 

I'm actually happy that this look into that time of my life wasn't deleted.  I was underage (between 18 and 20) working in a club with a fake ID at the time.  Trying to put on a smile, flirting with the crowd, acting happy when all I wanted to do was find a dark corner and cry about how lonely I felt while tips were being stuffed into my underwear.  I wish something that had seen the poem at the time would have recognized it for what it was.

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6 hours ago, WolfM said:

I'm actually happy that this look into that time of my life wasn't deleted.  I was underage (between 18 and 20) working in a club with a fake ID at the time.  Trying to put on a smile, flirting with the crowd, acting happy when all I wanted to do was find a dark corner and cry about how lonely I felt while tips were being stuffed into my underwear.  I wish something that had seen the poem at the time would have recognized it for what it was.

 I 'liked' this, even though it made me want to cry. For you are here, now, and doing great work in the world. But I wish with all my heart you did not have to hurt as you did.

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There was a recent post with a quote about "Alone", as defined by Stephen King as "... the most awful word in the English tongue ...".  It is worth noting that the dictionary definitions don't do the word justice, as one is usually most "alone" when not really "alone" at all. 😕

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23 hours ago, Backwoods Boy said:

There was a recent post with a quote about "Alone", as defined by Stephen King as "... the most awful word in the English tongue ...".  It is worth noting that the dictionary definitions don't do the word justice, as one is usually most "alone" when not really "alone" at all. 😕

Thanks, Backwoods. It is an awful word and takes on even greater horrors when you're alone in a crowd.

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