Now I bear a sickly face,
And in his arms have I found no grace,
He leaves me every morning in a sadden daze,
And I finally accept my lonely place.
He treats me with disdain even in my weaken state,
And I truly wonder if indeed he is my blessed mate,
He chides and mocks me not knowing my future fate,
Not minding that this sickness might make me late.
I am looked upon with sadness and pity,
Whisperings of a woman treated like an abandoned kitty,
Yet I am but a woman, a wife, a mother who needs only to be smitten,
But all he does is leave me bitten.
This sickness will not be my end,
This sickness will not make me bend,
He will see me someday has a friend,
That he needs always treat like a fern.
dido 4 eva
I’m scouring the sky in a moving bus,
The seats barely covered,
My feet upon the engine seat,
With my heart in an upheaval,
Yet I scour the skies for you.
The headphones stuck to my bobbing head,
The traffic is one in a million,
The street lights all dead and gone,
The sea is calm from my typing spot,
Yet I bob my head to my crazy play list.
Thinking of my divided attachments,
Chewing on a stale pinkish gum,
Disturbed by my fringed look,
Rummaging in my bag for something to eat,
Yet I’m thinking of those attachments.
I spot a small and lonely isle on the sea,
There is a diatribe playing in my ear,
There is a ping from a bb contact,
There are strangers peeking into my window,
Yet I still sight that lonely isle.
I feel a sudden sprout of joy,
Questions keep rising to the surface,
Wraith-like structures crawl up my leg,
The heat from the engine begins to consume my face,
Yet I still feel that sprout of joy.
I just refuse to be torn down,
The urge to cry out and bleed exists,
The anticipation of the pessimist lurks in midair,
The fever of another broken existence threatens,
Yet I refuse to be torn down.