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This is a poem I wrote last night. It is dark and sad. |
The Woman with the Secrets The woman with the secrets that only she can tell but anyone who looks at her would not know she's been through hell Her blue eyes twinkle readily, Her laugh is loud and true, She loves so many people but trusts only a few She does not take things for granted, Each day starts anew, as she asks herself if she's loved today, by her friends and lover too. Leave the woman to her secrets, Don't expose her to the world, For hurt is her middle name and she should not be disturbed. At an early age she learnt her truth, About violence and despair, living in a house where nobody seemed to care. The man who loved her first, The man who loved her most, is gone from this earthly soil, and now is just a ghost. But she remembers her Daddy, her best friend and her ally, And she knows he's taking care of her, as best as he can rally. Her children are her treasures, Their hers and hers alone, and her heart beats for each of them, to each she must atone. But for now she keeps her secrets, her sadness has no sound. For she only cries when she's alone, So her truth cannot be found. Don't worry about this woman, This woman who knows so much, Just appreciate her love and friendship, Enjoy her loving touch. Leave her to her secrets, Leave her far apart. Accept her for what she is, Secret woman with the broken heart. Julieanne 04/02/2012 |