Lost
Is nothing but a partner of mine
Seldomly, I feel needed
While the public pour their sweat on the corridor
I am alone thinking to myself
That I am an Outsider

Pushed
As I am by society
Rejecting the idealogy of mine
Thinking that it is old fashioned
Whilst the world strive for change
Isn't the suggestion a change for the better?
Truly
That I am an Outsider

Rejected
By all degree of mankind
They judge a book by not looking at it's content
But by it's colourful cover
The shallowness of theirs
Truly runs a trivial in my mind
That is why
That I am an Outsider

But I don't care

In my dreams
I struggle to breathe
God have pity
I can find no relief

Shaking and trembling
At another's touch
Images of your hands
Around my throat clutch

Rarely now do I sleep  through the night
All the blows rain down upon me
From left and right

Why is it
I cannot rid myself of these fears
Maintaining my hidden life
Trying to hide my tears

Each breath I take
Is full of sadness
Seeking an escape
From your violent madness


This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby  Jan.13,2013

The problem is not with the problem,
It’s that you don’t listen.
The issue is with the wound I carry
It is the neglect and egotistical dissipation
The ignorance and obscure character disposition
It is in your complacency and self-righteousness
I AM YOU INNER CHILD, CAN YOU HEAR ME?
Or have you grown too macho to surrender to your sensitivity
How many times I’ve cried, waiting for your attention
How many times you have been of disservice,
I have evolved into a numb and heartless rock
I no longer have the frivolity and freewill to levitate
It is I who chokes your rhythm when you hesitate
It is me taking a cold shower when you are embarrassed
The breath of you takes away my reasons to live
I AM YOUR INNER CHILD, CAN YOU HEAR ME?
No? But I have so much to say
I have been wearing this forlorn contusion  
Even when I talk it is not a discussion
You have marred me to become bitter and resentful
Gone is your passion, you are submerged in your job
Gone are your dreams, you have focused on that promotion
Love has been jaded by your promiscuity
What happened to loving one person in a million ways?
You are a servant of the social mirror and its constraining chains
Dancing to the dictatorial piano that plays and plays
Where models are defined you are a written face
The beats come together picturesque but grotesque
For you are more about maintaining the picture on display
What is in your heart has bowed to despair

I AM YOUR INNER CHILD, CAN YOU NOT HEAR ME?
I am drenched by the sweat of your incessant grind for material
Can you not understand that this has left me hysterical?
Surrealism suggests that as partners we should yearn for the ethereal
Free me from child abuse
Free me from bad news
Free me that I can choose
Free me that we can fuse
Free me to sign a treatise of truce
So I can be the inner child you love and don’t confuse
So that we can be free to try new things
So that we can rise above dogma and play strings
So that we can ride the giant phoenix, on its soft merriment wings  
…. And I will be the child in whom you confide and pay mind and find signs of truth in our stride, we won’t hide for we won’t be blind but kind in humility like we never lied and be free from the twigs that had us tied to a tree of no-open-mind and one we’ll be in time… I the child in whom you confide to find the prize of life.