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We live in a territorial state
Where doctor’s receptionist
Wear chainmail and carry axes
To save guard their sovereigns
From interference.

Responses  sound like an offensive
Battling against imprisonment
I am polite, ask kindly
Tread lightly.

I am a poor, weak patient
I pay for your services
We are unequal as I am ill
You are healthy and fit.

What has happened
To make you so unkind
Disrespectful, blind
Your turn will come .

Love Mary .
The pages that I rightfully write, are to right a wrong
They are an attempt to sing a new song, a new melody
To try and shift a paradigm of my confused insanity


IT'S JUST "NOTHING MAKES SENSE" ANYMORE


Tear stains on my cheeks that you have to answer for
In sorrow for today and tomorrow and honestly for months to come
The thought of your little finger wrapped around my thumb
As our hands happily danced together, for what was supposed to be forever interlocked as we walked
But maybe "nothing" is exactly what needs to make sense
Being satisfied with nothing, is how to receive everything
The sea is resting now
after a long day
gnawing at the edge
churning in deep hollows
ever so slowly eroding
this peaceful coast

Sand is the issue
of this marriage
sea and sky
combining to
make the land large
in its retreat

A handful of sand
to the winds
my life
to these tides
Unfolding petals
slipping into sunlight
For its first day of expression
and it knows just what to do
but the rays scorch her soft tissue
and her color goes brown

how sadistic the father.
I caught you round the waist
The buckle of your coat in my hand
Blonde curls tasting of the wind
And a love so deep within.

Love Mum ***
 Jun 2018 sheila sharpe
Dev
he likes to have control.
you can have your freedom,
but don't forget,
you'll have to pay the toll

he tells you "Stop"
commands you "Go"
and everything
in between.

he whispers
sweet nothings
and firmly suggests
all the most obscene things

By daytime, sweet as anything
shouting food, making me smile.
By night, he's the devil,
making you work for every mile.

he boosts your confidence
oh so slightly
it's what they all do.
But if he asks you anything,
don't ever tell the truth.
the smell before it rains and the taste of that first sip of tea in -20 degrees

the slow untangling of your thoughts with every beat of the drum, the way the wind blows right through you just enough to move you forward and never enough to blow you down

the sound of typing fingers when you know you're onto something good, the feeling of your own, and finally not his, skin

the seasons are changing and baby so are you / six senses are helping you develop into someone new
enjoy the little things, because those tend to leave the quickest
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