Looking back, I see moments I stumbled on myself,
Hours of waiting where I despised my kind soul.
The six-minute hug meant to be compassionate
Turned into thirty minutes outside your door.
Waiting for us, for me to mend the situation,
Self-loathing grew from within, or perhaps you sowed.
I took a two-hour trip, wondering if to fix myself or us,
But I never did; you wept, and I caved.
I fixed everything with your manipulative tears,
And that was when my life came to an end.
YOU ARE READING
From The Pages of My Soul
PoetryA second book of elevated railway of my emotions. Episodes I never knew I could write. Series I was afraid to dive in with words. This is a collection of poetry and prose originally written by my heart. Volume 2
