Call it a stream of consciousness, call it free writing, call it an open journal.
Call them My Songs.
I knew pain, I’d lost, I’d wept
I knew helplessness and hopes abandon;
I knew wringing my hands, my heart of
Tearing down my life, clouding every
Each long inhale taking the misery
deeper in my being
A figure stood alone; but today… I
I’d picked myself up, worked hard for
Kept warm on only memory, the remembrance
I carried on, pushed forward against
With all my self, my will; but today…
I’m strong no more.
I knew of unfair hands, pure hearts
unravelling without cause
Too soon: taken too far, too cruelly from
them they love
I thought I was safe, my scars, they
And then today…Today, again…