The MessageA Poem by Helen Woodward
There is something palpably selfish In the minds of lovers in turmoil Something markedly oxy-moronic That never fails to bend the rules to breaking
Sharing seems to be impossible And though love is ever passionate Soft, caring and memory riddled It becomes a non-event through fear Guided by a monsters gritting teeth
How then can we be compassionate in a disillusioned world of misinformation We become the very monsters we are evading Because we can...not because we want to
We walk in the rain So tears will not stain Gaunt faces and crying souls Hurting to the very boiling point That once brought such joy We continue to live in isolation By choice
We still feel much But somewhere in a bottle Floating in frothy foam There is a message Will you find it?
© 2016 Helen WoodwardFeatured Review
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6 Reviews Added on February 7, 2013 Last Updated on May 12, 2016 AuthorHelen WoodwardAustraliaAboutAt times simply living is hard work. People around you are non-responsive and you feel like throwing in the towel. I have read and reviewed many on-line writers who have felt this way.. more..Writing
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