PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It's the hatred, the fighting, the reason I'm writing.

The pain and the chaos, the lights and the seance.

The torment, absorbent; a sponge is my heart.

The rhythm, the reason, that tears me apart.

I'm broken, out-spoken, and of the same token,

I'm hiding, I'm fighting, the fire igniting.

Pre-heated, mistreated, I'm all but defeated.

While they're busy snoozing, I'm trying, but losing.

It's the message, the lessons, the reason I'm stressin.

The gospel, apostle, the reason I'm hostle.

The mystery, the history, that makes me afraid.

The headache, the heartbreak, I wish that you'd stayed.

Defusing, skin bruising, my trust you're abusing.

But lately, irately, I find that you hate me.

I'm drunken, grades flunkin, my conscience has shrunken.

I'm selfish, not helpless, but I've never fealt this.

It's the laughter, I have to, it's you that I'm after.

The mayhem, the music, depends how you use it.

Your smile, the trial, I live in denial.

The danger, it changed her, but look where we are.

The painting, I'm fainting, let's wish on a star.

Rewinding, I'm finding that I don't mind minding.

You took me and shook me, when I wasn't looking.

Out-dated, belated, what was it you hated?

While you're at home sleeping, it's keeping me weeping.

      -Lo Ruhamah