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neal-emanuelsonPoems
I've swallowed whole my humble pie For years now without remorse I was content to leave it all as such And let all things take its 'natural' course But then I learned I could take a pen And weave words around a rhythmic display If it wasn't for that fateful chance I wouldn't be half the man I am today Because when I get sad, I close the door And I cry But when I get sad and think of these words I get by These words are my reconciliation To a life in which I can relate But I feel so shameful When I chose mine Because I chose mine For years to come, I would covet this A final poem, a final prose And in the hours that past me by I never seem to write any of those These words I love to put to the test As if tried and true never failed And in my path comes consequence of the catered streams where they wade I've used them up, I've brought them down On many, oft without mercy or delay Without them, I'd never get this far I'd never tell you in this way But when I get here and close the door I can get by But when I'm alone with these words I still cry These words are my appreciation Something I can dedicate But it’s often so painful When I chose mine Because I chose mine ©2015 Neal Emanuelson
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Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 7:55 PM UTC
The Choice I've Made
I've swallowed whole my humble pie For years now without remorse I was content to leave it all as such And let all things take its 'natural' course But then I learned I could take a pen And weave words around a rhythmic display If it wasn't for that fateful chance I wouldn't be half the man I am today Because when I get sad, I close the door And I cry But when I get sad and think of these words I get by These words are my reconciliation To a life in which I can relate But I feel so shameful When I chose mine Because I chose mine For years to come, I would covet this A final poem, a final prose And in the hours that past me by I never seem to write any of those These words I love to put to the test As if tried and true never failed And in my path comes consequence of the catered streams where they wade I've used them up, I've brought them down On many, oft without mercy or delay Without them, I'd never get this far I'd never tell you in this way But when I get here and close the door I can get by But when I'm alone with these words I still cry These words are my appreciation Something I can dedicate But it’s often so painful When I chose mine Because I chose mine ©2015 Neal Emanuelson
#writing#painful#nothing#choice#acceptance#made#heals#sagaofthelostsavant
neal-emanuelson
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neal-emanuelson
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 7:55 PM UTC
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