What can you do about being used
The ache is unbearable
The feeling...abused
Sticking it out but sensing the grind
Winding and streaming and toking the line
It isn't physical but mental decline
Stepping on forward but falling behind
There's a door yonder it's open for you
Just when you get there it closes too
Love looks in and teases the heart
Giving a beat then tearing it apart
Age taking family with a peeling death knoll
Angel of Mercy has you on hold
Kids all going in separate ways
You left alone to cross out the days
One and the other it goes by so slow
Watching the tides as it ebbs and flows
Seeking the quiet when the heart wants to shout
Wanting and waiting for an easier way out
Sobbing in buckets to please the pain
Hiding in darkness tears power rain
If justice wants mercy when morals recede
Then love can't grow in any of these
Life can be hell and right now its here
Tomorrow will come and so will the fear
Its trying to combat the focus that's stained
When love has been hijacked
When sadness complains
For lonely tired hearts
For women or men
Pain knows no gender when it starts or it ends.
Susan...this one grabbed me...even shook me up a bit when I realized how well you can just lay it on the line and speak your mind and your heart. Some of us are just too trusting and giving...users prey on the likes of us, leaving us woulded...abandoned...nut stronger. We can make the same mistakes again, or learn how to measure trust and be quite such alluring targets. Never sacrifice your sensitivity.
Hugs,
Taylor
You are so honest in this poem. You have such a way of communicating your feelings. Even though I don't know you personally, I do know that you are an extremely sensitive person.
Poignant and heart awakening to these thoughts that have so much meaning and express so much feelings. Well done Susan, very real.
Fee
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on June 17, 2006
Boy, you got it right with this poem, Susan, and the last line was the kicker. Big time. This was very good and I enjoyed reading it, although the subject was not pleasant, it was written in pain-smeared hearache.
Susan
You just have to keep on opening more doors...until you find that one that leads to contentment...
As my Mum used to me over and over again " What's for you son.... wont go by you in life "....
Peter
Reviewed by Crystal Silver Angel (Reader)
Reviewed on June 17, 2006
(((Susan ))) this is powerful..Thanks for sharing!!
Xxx dove
Reviewed by Kate Clifford (Reader)
Reviewed on June 17, 2006
A very painful write that has been written with great skill.
A passionate and poignant memoir written by a woman whose life has been guided by the words: "I am here to learn how to love well." The book is a deep examination of relationships, family, motivation, and honoring of the Self.
This is not a drill. The attack on Pearl. They were the ghost planes of the night, deadly, illusive, sharp-clawed Black Cats. The Memoirs of ARM H.P. Lawrence, a Pearl Harbor survivor, Black Cat, and decorated war veteran.
Rosetta was born in 1909 as the youngest of ten children. The family had more laughter than money and neighbors would knock on their door to ask, "Can we come in and laugh, too?"
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Hugs,
Taylor
Ron
Fee
You just have to keep on opening more doors...until you find that one that leads to contentment...
As my Mum used to me over and over again " What's for you son.... wont go by you in life "....
Peter
Xxx dove
Love Tinka