A True Poem from Life

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  • Sadness

    A True Poem from Life

    So sweet and simple, one's life can be,
    Yet twisting and turning unexpectedly.
    One would think they had it all figured out,
    Then suddenly all's filled with doubt.

    I can not bear this burden alone,
    The anxiety attacks at who next will phone.
    I can not handle the crushing weight,
    Of my loved one's self-imposed fate.

    The where and when is not made clear,
    But the how and the why are what make me fear.
    I was impressed upon to keep it, to not say a word,
    "It is not fair!" I cried, as the madness occurred.

    What gives one the right to claim "nothing to live for"?
    But silence is my answer as he shuts the door.
    Desperately, I run to the door, the car starts up and backs down the drive,
    Rooted to the floor, feet not responding, my heart is breaking, my soul dying.

    Will this be the time, or will it once more be postponed?
    Sanity is fragile, mine slowly vanishes; truly in anguish I am all alone.
    I am not a physician or shrink,
    In a magical world, an empath I think.

    I feel what others feel when around them I am,
    The pain is so great, as Mediator I stand.
    I have no happiness, save that of others,
    My joys are two girls and being their mother.

    But motherhood does not block out the pain,
    The fear or the love, as he lies dying somewhere in the rain.
    "Get over it!" They say. "Snap out of it!" They shout,
    Why am I never allowed the easy way out?

    Three times I have tried, all unsuccessful attempts,
    I've learned from mistakes, always on defense.
    Now he tries it once or so I was told,
    Now he is gone...I feel so...so...old.

    Alas, I have to be strong once more, not for my sake,
    Two kids need me now, more than ever I think.
    Eleven and nine, blonde and brunette,
    Their lives are so young, much to live for still yet.

    And so I go on, as always I have, not showing my feelings,
    Thinking, caring, sharing, and loving those I can.
    Some day soon, it may come round again, stealing,
    Erasing what's left, emotionally and mentally, that's safely for now buried deep in my head.

    On the outside, I am easy going, eager to please,
    On the inside, am lonely and ill at ease.
    Please forgive if not very talkative,
    So much energy used when so much love to give.

    -by: "Cynteer", aka: Cyndy L Watkins

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    ansari commented on A True Poem from Life

    06-01-2010

    so much pain, so much suffering. makes me sad, very emotional. the purpose to live you have well emphasized , you got to live for their sake. they are innocent. They will need you to be around. Your experience will help to heal many wounded hearts. God bless you.

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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