As I could feel the anger build up I wanted to hurt him with the all the hate and distrust I wanted to stab him As if to kill was a longing desire I had been hurt so why not kill This was something I couldn’t do but it was such a strong feel I looked at him everyday wanting to take his life I fight back the anger I knew it would never be nothing more Why should I hate someone so much that most young girls adore What was a father who did not provide What was a father who didn’t protect his child but yet tried to deny What was a father that had not any use besides hurt , ignorance and abuse So fallen off a path that he had nothing left to give but an excuse I’m definitely hurt If I was to eat right now I couldn’t even swallow dessert I’d starve and die but for this man that I should call father you’d never see me cry
Holding the ladder I was hungry looking at the waiting dawn. Raw landscape: narcissism forages the belly. Picking up the figs from passion flowers. Is that right? Can you sow the seeds on a cloud? Unclothed words? Stealthily a guerilla
Achieving this dream Of words That consist of destroying My inner storm And Opening old wounds The lingering of pain As if salt was just poured Achieving this dream Would mean saying my goodbye’s To the ones I loved the
Well and I can tell just by looking into your eyes your heart has been broken many times but if you could just make yourself believe in love again I could prove to you my love knows no end, I
Last night moon was following me discreetly, skirting behind the trees. A white splendor drips, like a dropped coin on poor’s hand. Did you see the blood on roses? The petals were wounded in rain. Casual violence spreads in the
If it is unjust I can never bow down to it You can hit me for that Provided I am weak I might feel the pain Provided I am weak But that will never change my soul You might think
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1 Comment on "The Hurt"
A personal anger turned into a beautiful poem of passion. Keep on writing !