Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2013
Again I think
Crazy yet it may be but still
Racking my memory of sounds and pictures,
Going over them, again and again.
        I lay there, before God
        I lay there, on my dreams
In a room where light has been shut out.
And I feel, as if I were blind
As one sense is blind, another becomes not.

I read one another's and learn more of them.
How they have a devotion, not an obsession.
To one, and only one.
I discover a mistake, I scold myself.
One reassures me, yet I do know better.
I fear disaster of that beautiful devotion.
For I try to not ruin another,
And take it all for myself.
Or do I?

Time runs on, and clues elude me.
Until a word, is said, and I think,
The truth all rushes to me.
At once I feel overwhelmed.
One word triggers the clues.
One proves their devotion to me.
Their devotion another.
One word, so generous.
One word, so harmful.

In pain, I cry, of my own fault.
Looking for devotion in all the wrong places.
And now should I control this?
To be controlled forever, the undying devotion?
Only to keep myself out of pain?

My third shot, if failed,
Shall be the zenith of pain.
I sense myself starving for it.
I ask the Lord, "Why is it?"
To be so happy and said
That is the price of peace.
So, I face the grim truth,
Instead of becoming desperate.

Never before within my life
        Have I ever been loved.
And never again of this life
        Shall I ever be loved.

Yet, I still hope.
Written June 15, 2002
Gary W Weasel Jr
Written by
Gary W Weasel Jr
646
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems