How easily we bleed, our flesh diaphanous,
vulnerable to every word and deed,
and our thoughts akin to the lashings we receive
from inequitable seeds within
in life’s ceaseless foray.
I often feel like a flagellant,
giving life a break, for in the end it is proven,
by my own hand my mistakes,
and penance I must pay
to rid the pain of yesterday.
And blood has indelibly marked my life,
and so often from my heart,
where hopes and future rested,
and in the end detested I, for being who I am,
and standing on my own two feet.
As each time I wondered,
what I’d done to attract such betrayal,
and each time I pondered I could not attest my fail,
just change rejected and squandered the love
I’d so freely given.
It was me that always carried on,
never let go the ideal of love,
even though there were problems to sort,
I never thought of leaving, yet that is what most people do,
when obstacles stand in their way.
In a way the bleeding attests my stance,
what I believe in heart and circumstance,
loyalty my calling card, a stepping stone
for those who cannot truly love,
who are still searching for themselves.
There are lessons to learn, and I have had my share,
but dare I become too cynical,
that is the day when love can no longer
bear the pain,
and I will no longer seek to entertain a tryst of worth.
For many seek love from need,
a loneliness, a sense of fear precedes,
and that is no reason to be attached, at least for me,
I have enough in life to love and cherish
and appreciated every moment I breathe.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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