Life

I thought I loved him,

But he lied.

He's just a thorn,

In my side.

Pluck it out,

Bleed to death.

Leave it be,

Out of breath.

Children crying for their mom,

Out of bed I bound.

But their presence,

In my heart alone.

The loudness of this empty home.

Blood, sweat, tears,

So many fears,

Far too much missed time and years.

I thought I loved them,

But can't describe,

The feelings that I feel inside.

It's more than love,

For that I gave to him.

But they are me and I am them.

Away they go,

In need of me.

Who could ever let this be?

Beside myself.

It's me alone.

They're inside his empty home,

My mind and feelings start to roam.

To him they are such a chore.

It's just him and his whore.

September 26, 2005