Holden Caulfield Poetry

Holden

Lost
"Lost"
People always use that word to describe teenagers.
They're never bad, never out of control, just lost.
Where have they gone?
Why are they lost?
If you can see them, if you can talk to them, how can they be lost?
I never understood lost
Until I was lost.
I was at school, I was fine, and then
I wasn't.
I had these thoughts
They weren't bad at first,
But then they got worse.
I went from being afraid I was going to disappear,
To wanting nothing more than to vanish without a trace.
I didn't see any worth in life, after failing out of so many schools.
Funny thing is,
I didn't know I was lost at first.
But I sure as hell wish someone would've found me.
Anyways, I'd tell you more but I don't feel like it.

Ducks
"Hey, listen.
You know those ducks in that lagoon
Right near Central Park South?
That little lake?
By any chance,
Do you happen to know where they go,
The ducks,
When it gets all frozen over?"
I ask the driver.
On the outside, I seem calm.
I ask about the ducks as a normal person would initiate small talk.
But inside,
I'm panicked.
My time is running out, I'm freezing up,
And I don't know where I'm gonna go.
The ducks are always fine, they come back year to year.
They don't freeze to death,
Despite the fact that their home becomes an ice cube.
Im freezing up inside.
I may as well be asking,
"Excuse me, can you please help me?
I have nowhere to go.
It's really very depressing,
But I'm cold and empty.
I need help, I need somewhere to go."
But I don't.
I ask about the ducks instead.
Because when I go through the ducks, no one knows the truth.
No one knows I'm lost and afraid,
No one worries about me.
Imagine it:
All those phonies, worrying about me.
I couldn't stomach that.

Phonies
Isn't it funny?
How I'm surrounded by people, but I feel so alone?
How none of my 'friends' ever bother
To look deep enough to see that I'm broken?
It's 'cause they're all phonies.
They're superficial, and only care about outward appearance.
And they assume I'm the same way.
It's all about conformity to them,
All about fitting in, being the same.
They don't open up to anyone,
They act fake to everyone,
They never show their true selves-
Wait.
I never show my true self, cause it's too damn depressing.
I act fake to hide the pain.
I don't open up to anyone.
It may be for different reasons, but I'm just as much a phony as the rest of 'em.

Jane
"Ask her if she still keeps her kings in the back row," I tell Stradlater.
That's my way of telling him to say "hello",
Of asking him to let her know that I still care about her.
We only played checkers a few times, Jane and I,
And I didn't really care much for where she kept her kings.
The last time we played,
Her stepfather came out and harassed her,
And she shed a single tear,
A tear that landed on the board, right near her edge.
I moved over and sat with her, tried my best to comfort her.
I told her that it would be okay, that I would always be there for her.
There's no way I can call her now.
I'm drunk in New York City with nowhere to go,
And she's the first and last person I want to be with right now.

Drunk
I know that I'm not quite 21,
That it's not quite legal for me to drink,
But I don't do it for fun.
I drink to forget, to lose myself.
I drink to fill the ever-growing void inside of me.
It started out small at first,
A drink here and there to take off the edge.
But it's grown, overtaking everything else.
The pain doesn't stop, not even when I'm pass-out drunk.
Alcohol numbs the pain, but nothing can take it away.
Sometimes I feel the urge to end it,
To Stop the pain, the wondering of where to go next,
But then all these phonies would talk about me like they knew me,
Tell people about how I touched their lives or some dumb crap.
So I drink, and try to forget,
But it doesn't even help with that.

Hide
Everyday, I fight the urge to fade away.
No one would notice if I were gone,
If I slipped through the cracks.
But instead I face the day.
Or rather, brace myself for the pain and suffering.
I want to hide, to cower into a ball and melt into the background,
I want to hide.
But I embrace the day, with a fake smile on my face,
As phony as those whom I have come to hate.