The Last StrikeA Poem by Suzy QSo maybe I do make castles out of dirt, But does that mean that their words don't hurt? Does that mean that their actions don't wound me somehow? Now don't have a cow When I say they're acting immature, Picking on the smallest child When they should really walk a mile In her shoes. What's left for me to lose? The last shreds of self respect? Maybe they're just jealous of my intellect, Although I doubt it, I'm not all that smart. My mind wanders from me like a loose go-cart, It thinks and does things I don't want it to do, So can we please keep this from me to you?
They don't see how hard I work nor do they care, They're like a pack of wolves and I'm a small hare. I wonder if they knew What I go through On a daily basis Would that change their faces? Would that change their minds? Would that allow me to put our past behind Us and start a new friendship? Then what happens to all my hardships? Were they futile? Do they matter? Now I just sound like that mad hatter. It seems like I'm just questioning with no answers, The questions are floating in my mind like some of those ballet dancers. Someone help me decipher my life? I think I'm down to my last strike. © 2011 Suzy QAuthor's Note
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15 Reviews Added on July 14, 2011 Last Updated on July 16, 2011 AuthorSuzy QNeverland, FLAboutMoney can't buy happiness, but it can buy books and that's kind of the same thing. Always felt I'd find the meaning on paper, don't think I've found myself yet, yet happiness is right where it is.. more..Writing
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