As young children,
we most desired toys.
How precious they were,
on every occasion that gave.

We cherished our toys,
for the joy they brought.
Showing them off to others,
so proud of what we had.

But, eventually...
we grew tired of them.
Sometimes quickly,
they became worn and old.

Our interest elsewhere..
all the new toys out there.
Nobody wants used toys,
they're no good anymore.

It has to be shiny and better,
that's much more exciting.
So we discard our old toys,
after we've played them out.

She is obsessed with toys,
and I am her doll...
but now I am old and worn,
and playtime is over.

To be here, to be out of sight,
Until dawn comes, you blacken my sky,
You know that this is just another
Sad song, a "useless poem" of pain,
Another "lie," another somber "waste of space."

Well there is "hope" at the end of my tunnel,
Or is there? I gave up on this poem and that,
It all came out sad...much like the darkened
truth of my well worn path. This is the end,
Then there might just be you (my friend?)

No such thing as the word of peace,
This is it, will I wander out into the blank,
And pretend I can make it a simple world of
Joy, because that is what makes people clap?
Sorry, but I guess I had to be sarcastic,
This mouth of mine that always must flap.

*When was there a time when my peers didn't
Always get mad? It's become a common place truth,
I have no actual friends, gone my days of
Wild care-free youth, even school wasn't as
Bad as having to somehow live with you.

In the midst of talking to my friend girl.
She mentioned that she's been waking up in the middle of the night.
Cold, unable to go back to sleep.
We talked for a while longer, being our normal silly selves.
Then she asked a not so unusual question but unusual question.
She asked if she could borrow my heart, that she sought somewhere warm, comfortable.
That here lately she hasn't been able to find such a place.
Without hesitation I gave it to her. The blurred line of going through such lengths expecting the same sincerity to be returned.
Ensuring that she would at least get a good night's sleep if nothing else hoping to put her mind at ease.
We went for days, months even without so much as a single word being said.
Given the things she'd normally go through it was quite understandable.
What ever was mine I would have given until I found myself waking up later and later night after night.
My dreams no longer existent. Without realizing I found myself in the same predicament.
In search of a peace of mind.
It wasn't until she appeared out of the blue.
It put my mind at ease to see her happy, fruitful.
We talked for a while.
Laughing about everything that went on while separated from each other.
But when the topic of sleep came up I asked about my heart.
I noticed a brief hesitation.
Choosing to confess without saying too much, she gave my heart back.
Worn. No longer able to fit where it once came.
When asked what happened she turned her attention to someone else.
Seeking the same affection

It's been a long day; I'm stressed and worn
A little frayed around the edges but not quite torn
Someone makes a comment, I hear some bad news too
And my world, perpetually sunny, sees a touch of blue

It's not the end of the world, it's not really a big deal,
It doesn't usually bother me, but that's not what I feel
This will not stay for long, this feeling soon will pass
To dissolve and to disperse on the wind like gas

The light will give these clouds a chase
The negative feelings are soon replaced
Peace, love, and joy will once more embrace
And a smile sweeps widely across my face

As I remember
My great Defender

He is stronger and bigger than my problems big and small
I recline at table in the great feast hall
I come running and He holds me close to His chest
Sometimes I cry and stay there a while I confess

The sun is beautiful and it hardly ever rains,
But peace and healing are found after the pain
And this I also know:
A little rain makes the flowers grow

So here I stand in the sun once again
I give thanks to God and then say: AMEN!

Words

We live in a wired and weird world
where meanings of our words
are paper-thin tissue and torn
tarnished and worn by wear and War.

© M.L.Emmett

Like that old sweater
In the back of your closet,
You know the one I'm talking about;
It was your favorite,
You wore it all the time,
And it may not fit right anymore,
But you can't get rid of it,
Well, because it was your favorite
For all these years,
There are so many memories
Tied to that sweater.
And maybe not all of them are happy,
Or make you smile when you wear it,
But it hold the secrets and scars of your past,
So you have to keep it, naturally.
But every time you take that sweater
From the back of your closet to see
If it matches your outfit,
And you decide,
Maybe not today,
You see the faded color,
You see the memories,
And you know, just like your sweater,
You're wearing thin.