Chosen

The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet’s AI:

The poem builds around a single, clearly felt longing—the wish to be chosen—and the title and closing question frame that yearning with real coherence. The repetition of "chosen" from title to final line gives the piece a sense of return, as if the speaker keeps circling back to the same ache, which suits the subject well.

The strongest moment is the trio of phrases in the second stanza: "a place I can thrive, a space that is safe to feel truly alive." The shift from "place" to "space" and the accumulation of clauses lets the line breathe and stretch, mirroring the reaching the speaker describes. That cumulative rhythm does more emotional work than the more general statements around it.

Where the poem could grow is in trading abstraction for image. Lines like "Nobody cares if I'm alive or dead" and "I don't have a place where I fit" name the feeling directly, but they tell the reader the emotion rather than letting it be discovered. The poem already contains one concrete element—the rising sun—that hints at how powerful specificity can be. Consider what being "never chosen" looks like in a particular moment: the unpicked figure at the edge of a group, the empty chair, the phone that does not light up. A grounded detail would let readers arrive at the loneliness themselves rather than being told it.

The sun image in the third stanza is promising but underused. "The sun will rise, again and again" gestures toward endurance or weary continuity, yet its meaning stays unsettled. Pressing on what the recurring sunrise means to the speaker—comfort, indifference, a reminder that time passes without change—would give that turn more weight.

One technical note: the rhymes (dead/head, again/when) land cleanly, but the long unrhymed middle stanza sits at a different rhythm from the couplets around it. That contrast can be an asset if it is intentional, marking the middle as the most searching passage; it currently reads as somewhat uneven. Deciding whether the form should be consistent couplets or a deliberate loosening would sharpen the structure.

The final fragment, broken across "will I…. be chosen?", uses its hesitation effectively, the ellipsis enacting the uncertainty the whole poem has been moving toward.

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the A.I. I picked those lines in the middle, to focus on. 
I think that the lines, should be rearranged to fit the page like so:

I'm never chosen, I don't take up space,
Yes, I am breathing, but I don't have a place,
where I can fit, a place I can thrive,
a space that feels safe... to feel truly alive.

And the sun will rise, and the 'morrow again,
I'm still alone, and still wondering when...

Will I.... be chosen? 

Of course, you don't have to use what I have put down here, but you certainly are free to use it. ~ Geezer.