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Anguish
I don't remember why I happened to be this miserable. I just
was. Parts of it are tied up in the fact that I felt very alone at the time I
wrote this poem.
When is it enough?
Oh Goddess,
When is it enough?
When shall I have paid for the depth of my sins
For the strength of my selfness
When shall I be free?
Never, comes the voice of rolling thunder
You are too proud
You are too sure
You break too many hearts with your careless walk
You will never be free of this loneliness.
No one will ever truly love you.
No one will ever truly care for you.
It will always be a sham, walking in front of you
Laughing at you
For the pride to think you can outlast the damage you have done.
Hearts never heal, the wounds you inflict are eternal.
All those broken dreams behind you
All those adoring gazes dashed
They are your fault, your responsibility
But you ran from them,
you RAN!
And for that, you can never mend them.
For you will never have their trust again.
© Anne Cross, 1998
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