En.Citatepedia^®.ro

In The Desert

A cloudless sky o’erhead, and all around
The level country stretching like a sea—
A dull grey sea, that had no seeming bound,
The very semblance of eternity.

All common things that this poor life contained
Had passed from me, leaving no sign nor token;
My footfall first broke stillness that had reigned
For centuries unbroken.

Almost it was as if my steps had strayed
Into some strange old land or unknown isle,
Where Time himself, with drowsy hand had stayed
The shadow on the dial.

The sun at even sank down angry red
In the dim haze that bounded the far plain;
And then the stars usurped the heavens instead,
With silence in their train—

A deep, dread silence, save when fitful sighs
Of wailing wind were wafted from the south.
Nature seemed dying: light had left her eyes,
The smile of her mouth.

Only in dreams unquietly she talked,
In broken murmurs restlessly did ’plain;
Then came strange sounds, as if a spirit walked,
Wringing its hands in pain,

Crying, ‘No rest! no rest! Who dares intrude,
And waken silence that for countless years
Has been unbroken? Must our solitude
At last know human tears?

Leave but a little space, O restless race!
Free from your carking vanity and care.
Keep back! keep back!’ And then, a phantom face
Shone lurid in the air,

Gazing in mine, with a strange, earnest look
Of solemn sadness, more than mortal pain,
Then vanished with a bitter cry that shook
The dim, dead plain.

poem by Ernest Favenc
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If?

If I should die this night, (as well might be,
So pain has on my weakness worked its will),
And they should come at morn and look on me

Lying more white than I am wont, and still
In the strong silence of unchanging sleep,
And feel upon my brow the deepening chill,

And know me gathered to His time-long keep,
The quiet watcher over all men's rest,
And weep as those around a death-bed weep --

There would no anguish throb my vacant breast,
No tear-drop trickle down my stony cheek,
No smile of long farewell say "Calm is best."

I should not answer aught that they should speak,
Nor look my meaning out of earnest eyes,
Nor press the reverent hands that mine should seek;

But, lying there in such an awful guise,
Like some strange presence from a world unknown
Unmoved by any human sympathies,

Seem strange to them, and dreadfully alone,
Vacant to love of theirs or agony,
Having no pulse in union with their own.

Gazing henceforth upon infinity
With a calm consciousness devoid of change,
Watching the current of the years pass by,

And watching the long cycles onward range,
With stronger vision of their perfect whole,
As one whom time and space from them estrange.

And they might mourn and say "The parted soul
"Is gone out of our love; we spend in vain
"A tenderness that cannot reach its goal."

Yet I might still perchance with them remain
In spirit, being free from laws of mould,
Still comprehending human joy and pain.

Ah me! but if I knew them as of old,
Clasping them in vain arms, they unaware,
And mourned to find my kisses leave them cold,

And sought still some part of their life to share
Still standing by them, hoping they might see,
And seemed to them but as the viewless air!

For so once came it in a dream to me,
And in my heart it seemed a pang too deep,
A shadow having human life to be.

For it at least would be long perfect sleep
Unknowing Being and all Past to lie,
Void of the growing Future, in God's keep:

But such a knowledge would be misery
Too great to be believed. Yet if the dead
In a diviner mood might still be nigh,

Their former life unto their death so wed
That they could watch their loved with heavenly eye,
That were a thing to joy in, not to dread.

poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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The Great Grey Plain

Out West, where the stars are brightest,
Where the scorching north wind blows,
And the bones of the dead gleam whitest,
And the sun on a desert glows --
Yet within the selfish kingdom
Where man starves man for gain,
Where white men tramp for existence --
Wide lies the Great Grey Plain.

No break in its awful horizon,
No blur in the dazzling haze,
Save where by the bordering timber
The fierce, white heat-waves blaze,
And out where the tank-heap rises
Or looms when the sunlights wane,
Till it seems like a distant mountain
Low down on the Great Grey Plain.

No sign of a stream or fountain,
No spring on its dry, hot breast,
No shade from the blazing noontide
Where a weary man might rest.
Whole years go by when the glowing
Sky never clouds for rain --
Only the shrubs of the desert
Grow on the Great Grey Plain.

From the camp, while the rich man's dreaming,
Come the `traveller' and his mate,
In the ghastly dawnlight seeming
Like a swagman's ghost out late;
And the horseman blurs in the distance,
While still the stars remain,
A low, faint dust-cloud haunting
His track on the Great Grey Plain.

And all day long from before them
The mirage smokes away --
That daylight ghost of an ocean
Creeps close behind all day
With an evil, snake-like motion,
As the waves of a madman's brain:
'Tis a phantom NOT like water
Out there on the Great Grey Plain.

There's a run on the Western limit
Where a man lives like a beast,
And a shanty in the mulga
That stretches to the East;
And the hopeless men who carry
Their swags and tramp in pain --
The footmen must not tarry
Out there on the Great Grey Plain.

Out West, where the stars are brightest,
Where the scorching north wind blows,
And the bones of the dead seem whitest,
And the sun on a desert glows --
Out back in the hungry distance
That brave hearts dare in vain --
Where beggars tramp for existence --
There lies the Great Grey Plain.

'Tis a desert not more barren
Than the Great Grey Plain of years,
Where a fierce fire burns the hearts of men --
Dries up the fount of tears:
Where the victims of a greed insane
Are crushed in a hell-born strife --
Where the souls of a race are murdered
On the Great Grey Plain of Life!

poem by Henry Lawson
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The Mourners

I look into the aching womb of night;
I look across the mist that masks the dead;
The moon is tired and gives but little light,
The stars have gone to bed.

The earth is sick and seems to breathe with pain;
A lost wind whimpers in a mangled tree;
I do not see the foul, corpse-cluttered plain,
The dead I do not see.

The slain I would not see . . . and so I lift
My eyes from out the shambles where they lie;
When lo! a million woman-faces drift
Like pale leaves through the sky.

The cheeks of some are channelled deep with tears;
But some are tearless, with wild eyes that stare
Into the shadow of the coming years
Of fathomless despair.

And some are young, and some are very old;
And some are rich, some poor beyond belief;
Yet all are strangely like, set in the mould
Of everlasting grief.

They fill the vast of Heaven, face on face;
And then I see one weeping with the rest,
Whose eyes beseech me for a moment's space. . . .
Oh eyes I love the best!

Nay, I but dream. The sky is all forlorn,
And there's the plain of battle writhing red:
God pity them, the women-folk who mourn!
How happy are the dead!

poem by Robert William Service
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The pain of silence

Like a little girl i sit waiting
Hoping not to be disappointed
But there again all there is,
Is the pain of silence
The silence is taking over
When that day comes closer
I try to forget and just hope
But still the pain of silence
Now this day i begin to dread
Because i know deep within
Once again all there will be
Is the pain of silence
I try to shut this out
But it haunts me like a shadow in the dark
As i fail to run from the silence
The silence is too hard to bear
And because of it i live in fear
For i do not know what to expect
So i dwell in the pain of silence

poem by Abigail Sikwenda
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The Alchemist And The Mouse

Once there lived an alchemist in a strange and distant land,
So wise and famous and revered, great power he did command.
For he could turn base metal in a flash to solid gold,
And so the alchemist grew rich, as he in years grew old.

The alchemist had riches, but a mortal man was he,
And came unto his house one day, a gypsy to foresee
His fortune with a crystal ball that showed his time was nigh,
So he a magic potion made, his own death to defy.

And when this potion to give immortality was made,
He took the potion to his lips, but then his hand he stayed,
For there his pet, a small brown mouse, was sitting on his knee;
He gave the mouse a sip and waited, the effect to see.

So time it passed, the mouse it thrived, so then he drank the brew.
Now safe from death, his fame increased, and so his fortune grew.
And so the years went by, he didn't age, always was well;
He and the mouse lived on, and to them nothing bad befell.

The centuries rolled on, his friends and relatives were dead.
In time the human race was gone as onward time it sped,
But even Earth is mortal, and at last the Sun grew tired;
The Earth became a cold dark rock, its spirit had expired.

And all was black, for only feeble starlight pricked the sky,
And silence reigned for there were only two who didn't die;
There gazing out to space, the last two tenants of the house;
The sad and lonely alchemist; by his side an ancient mouse.

poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
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Solitude, Singing

Being alone is knowing
That in in this solitary splendour
Solitude, stark and staring,
Solitude, singing a lullaby
Solitude, singing a dirge
Surrounded by so many sundry things;
Things seen and unseen
Factors known and unknown
Solitude singing softly, chanting without ranting
Solitude’s songs that sing of solemn things

Silence singing golden songs
Silence healing ancient wrongs
If only silence could be
More than a memory
More than history
Silence can be more than words
Empty words echoing in an empty world
Echoing in empty valleys
Silence unspoken, unspoken, unbroken
Transfixed by time.

poem by Rani Turton
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Hauntings

In the grey tumult of these after years
Oft silence falls; the incessant wranglers part;
And less-than-echoes of remembered tears
Hush all the loud confusion of the heart;
And a shade, through the toss'd ranks of mirth and crying
Hungers, and pains, and each dull passionate mood, -
Quite lost, and all but all forgot, undying,
Comes back the ecstasy of your quietude.

So a poor ghost, beside his misty streams,
Is haunted by strange doubts, evasive dreams,
Hints of a pre-Lethean life, of men,
Stars, rocks, and flesh, things unintelligible,
And light on waving grass, he knows not when,
And feet that ran, but where, he cannot tell.

poem by Rupert Brooke (1914)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Leave In Silence

Girl of my dreams,
You dont know what it means to live my life without you.
I hope everyday when you pass my way I dare to say a word to you.
But everytime you look at me I go right out of my head.
And then I just turn away and act like I dont see you.
Youre so far away, no reason to stay here,
I leave in silence
Youre so far away, no reason to stay here,
I leave in silence
Sometimes I think
Ill win back my confidence and be the man I used to be.
But a touch of your smile and I feel so strange again.
And lose myself in the wait and see.
And everytime when you are near and act like you dont care
I get so insecure and then Im not so sure.
Youre so far away, no reason to stay here,
I leave in silence.
Youre so far away, no reason to stay here,
I leave in silence.
Leave in silence.
Youre so far away, no reason to stay here,
I leave in silence.
Youre so far away, no reason to stay here,
I leave in silence.
Leave in silence. yeah.
I leave in silence. oh oh.
I leave in silence. oh oh.
I leave in silence. oh oh. oh oh. yeah.

song performed by by Scooter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death

I have been gazing on the resting place
Of the cold sleepers of the earth—who trod
This busy planet for a little space,
Then laid them down, and took the verdant sod
To curtain the low cot wherein they slept,
Forgotten save by some few hearts that o'er them wept.

'T is strange—so lately they were living forms,
Breathing and moving; now the vernal sun
Looks down upon their silent graves, nor warms
One pulse to action—life with them is done;
And the turf blooms as quietly, as though
No forms of human mould were slumbering below.

And this shall be my lot!—a little while,
And I shall, too, lie down and be at rest,
In silence and in darkness; earth will smile
In spring's rich garniture, and o'er my breast
The wild-flower shed its sweets—but there will be
No gladness in bright hues or fragrant breath for me.

Oh, Death! they call thee terrible—but life
Hath pain, and blighted hopes and bitter tears,
The pang of keen remorse, the daily strife
'Twixt jarring passions, the false smile that sears
The heart to kindly feelings, and the dread,
That e'en what bliss is ours, within our grasp will fade.

Nor is it very dreadful to lie down
In momentary darkness, and awake
In a bright world of happiness, unknown,
And unimagined! But 't is sad to take
The last farewell of earthly things, and know
That we have left fond hearts to lingering years of woe.

And herein lies the bitterness—but when
The parting pang is over, need we fear
To tread thy narrow pathway—and cling then
To life's poor relics?—It is true, that here
We have bright moments, scenes and hours of joy;
Yet seldom is our bliss unmix'd with some alloy.

It should be so—there is enough of bliss,
To make the hours of life glide swiftly on,
Yet sadness dims the brightest cup—and this
Recalls the heart from trusting what must soon
Forever vanish from our grasp, when we
Are call'd from things of time to dread eternity.

poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Unbroken

(holly lamar, annie roboff)
How I ever lived and breathed before you loved me, I dont recall
If I walked around at all, it was in bits and pieces
Of a jagged heart
You kissed me and every piece went back in place, every pain got erased
You held me up to the light
No one ever left me out in the rain
Cold words still remain unspoken
And I never got lost, spent years in the dark
Youre here, now my hearts unbroken
When I see your smile fill my soul again
Im unbroken
If I doubted the power of love, baby now I understand
I thank God for every day I wake up to the soft touch
Of your magic hands
In this world sometimes the only thing thats real is the way you make me feel
Babe, the changes day and night
I swear its life
No one ever left me out in the rain
Cold words still remain unspoken
And I never got lost, spent years in the dark
Youre here, now my hearts unbroken
When I see your smile fill my soul again
Im unbroken
I still see the night, I fell into your eyes
And when we made love it felt like the first time
No one ever left me out in the rain
Cold words still remain unspoken
And I never got lost, spent years in the dark
Youre here, now my hearts unbroken
When I see your smile fill my soul again
Im unbroken
When I see your smile fill my soul again
Im unbroken
Im unbroken, oh yeah
Im unbroken
No one ever left me out in the rain
Cold words still remain unspoken
And I never got lost, spent years in the dark
Youre here, now my hearts unbroken
When I see your smile fill my soul again
Im unbroken

song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dining-Room Tea

When you were there, and you, and you,
Happiness crowned the night; I too,
Laughing and looking, one of all,
I watched the quivering lamplight fall
On plate and flowers and pouring tea
And cup and cloth; and they and we
Flung all the dancing moments by
With jest and glitter. Lip and eye
Flashed on the glory, shone and cried,
Improvident, unmemoried;
And fitfully and like a flame
The light of laughter went and came.
Proud in their careless transience moved
The changing faces that I loved.

Till suddenly, and otherwhence,
I looked upon your innocence.
For lifted clear and still and strange
From the dark woven flow of change
Under a vast and starless sky
I saw the immortal moment lie.
One instant I, an instant, knew
As God knows all. And it and you
I, above Time, oh, blind! could see
In witless immortality.
I saw the marble cup; the tea,
Hung on the air, an amber stream;
I saw the fire's unglittering gleam,
The painted flame, the frozen smoke.
No more the flooding lamplight broke
On flying eyes and lips and hair;
But lay, but slept unbroken there,
On stiller flesh, and body breathless,
And lips and laughter stayed and deathless,
And words on which no silence grew.
Light was more alive than you.

For suddenly, and otherwhence,
I looked on your magnificence.
I saw the stillness and the light,
And you, august, immortal, white,
Holy and strange; and every glint
Posture and jest and thought and tint
Freed from the mask of transiency,
Triumphant in eternity,
Immote, immortal.

Dazed at length
Human eyes grew, mortal strength
Wearied; and Time began to creep.
Change closed about me like a sleep.
Light glinted on the eyes I loved.
The cup was filled. The bodies moved.
The drifting petal came to ground.
The laughter chimed its perfect round.
The broken syllable was ended.
And I, so certain and so friended,
How could I cloud, or how distress,
The heaven of your unconsciousness?
Or shake at Time's sufficient spell,
Stammering of lights unutterable?
The eternal holiness of you,
The timeless end, you never knew,
The peace that lay, the light that shone.
You never knew that I had gone
A million miles away, and stayed
A million years. The laughter played
Unbroken round me; and the jest
Flashed on. And we that knew the best
Down wonderful hours grew happier yet.
I sang at heart, and talked, and eat,
And lived from laugh to laugh, I too,
When you were there, and you, and you.

poem by Rupert Brooke
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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O Fish

The city is asleep.
Midnight. The enormous sky is full of stars.
Only a bright fish is coming out of the mirror.
My eyes see only him.
With silence unbroken my eyes say:
O fish, are you Harun ar-Rashid, in your nightgown
Are you wandering- from the palace to the thatched cottage,
Watching how the wheel of stars is whirling round and round?
O fish, where are you going?

The city is asleep.
Only a born-blind singer along with thieves, harlots, and police is awake,
And a strange silent fish. O moving fish.
My eyes see only him.
With silence unbroken my eyes say:
O fish, are you the very eyes of mine?
Midnight. The wheel of nature is whirling round and round on the waterfall.
O fish, where are you going?

Translation by S M Maniruzzaman

poem by Abdul Mannan Syed
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I See Around Me Tombstones Grey

I see around me tombstones grey
Stretching their shadows far away.
Beneath the turf my footsteps tread
Lie low and lone the silent dead -
Beneath the turf - beneath the mould -
Forever dark, forever cold -
And my eyes cannot hold the tears
That memory hoards from vanished years
For Time and Death and Mortal pain
Give wounds that will not heal again -
Let me remember half the woe
I've seen and heard and felt below,
And Heaven itself - so pure and blest,
Could never give my spirit rest -
Sweet land of light! thy children fair
Know nought akin to our despair -
Nor have they felt, nor can they tell
What tenants haunt each mortal cell,
What gloomy guests we hold within -
Torments and madness, tears and sin!
Well - may they live in ectasy
Their long eternity of joy;
At least we would not bring them down
With us to weep, with us to groan,
No - Earth would wish no other sphere
To taste her cup of sufferings drear;
She turns from Heaven with a careless eye
And only mourns that we must die!

Ah mother, what shall comfort thee
In all this boundless misery?
To cheer our eager eyes awhile
We see thee smile, how fondly smile!
But who reads not through the tender glow
Thy deep, unutterable woe?
Indeed no darling land above
Can cheat thee of thy children's love.
We all in life's departing shine,
Our last dear longings blend with thine,
And struggle still and strive to trace
With clouded gaze thy darling face.
We would not leave our nature home
For any world beyond the tomb.
No, mother, on thy kindly breast
Let us be laid in lasting rest,
Or waken but to share with thee
A mutual immortality.

poem by Emily Brontë from The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë (1908)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Every Day

Every day I see him coming
Every day he walks on by
Life used to be so plain and simple
Before he came into my life
Every night I keep on dreaming
Every night I take him home
We always go to bed together
I always wake up all alone
Chorus:
Oh its strange, so strange
What hes doing to me
Oh its strange so strange
Did this ever happen to you
The way it has happened to me
The way it just happened to me
Every day outside my window
Always minutes close to eight
I wish he stayed a little longer
But his bus is never late
Every night were dancing slowly
I play the music he adores
Like Sinatra then were talking
All important things for sure
Chorus:
Oh its strange so strange
What hes doing to me
Oh its strange so strange
Did this ever happen to you
The way it has happened to me
The way it just happened to me
Oh its strange so strange
What hes doing to me
Oh so strange real strange
Did this ever happen to you
The way it has happened to me
The way it just happened to me

song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Silence Of Pain

The pain of silence deafens me
Like some bomb in my soul.
And I lie
Among the smouldering wreckage of my life
To hear your final drum roll,
Now only in the echo of a memory
That some silent thief had stole.
The pain of silence stabs me deep.
Yet from my wounds
No blood does ever seep.
Can't you see?
I'm still bleeding to death in your dreams.
Could it be?
As I fight for my breath,
In moonbeams- you hide.
With the pain of silence
That sword in my side.

I look out
Across a black sea.
Dying stars will surround me
The embers of love
That used to be.
I'm done,
Crying to the astral lights.
Smothered in your snake bites.
And as I lie dying in silent pain.

Now your promises ring in my mind
Insane.
As my life blood
Runs away down the drain.
Those lost dried tears
Flood
The silence of pain.

poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I see around me tombstones grey

I see around me tombstones grey
Stretching their shadows far away.
Beneath the turf my footsteps tread
Lie low and lone the silent dead -
Beneath the turf - beneath the mould -
Forever dark, forever cold -
And my eyes cannot hold the tears
That memory hoards from vanished years
For Time and Death and Mortal pain
Give wounds that will not heal again -
Let me remember half the woe
I've seen and heard and felt below,
And Heaven itself - so pure and blest,
Could never give my spirit rest -
Sweet land of light! thy children fair
Know nought akin to our despair -
Nor have they felt, nor can they tell
What tenants haunt each mortal cell,
What gloomy guests we hold within -
Torments and madness, tears and sin!
Well - may they live in ectasy
Their long eternity of joy;
At least we would not bring them down
With us to weep, with us to groan,
No - Earth would wish no other sphere
To taste her cup of sufferings drear;
She turns from Heaven with a careless eye
And only mourns that we must die!
Ah mother, what shall comfort thee
In all this boundless misery?
To cheer our eager eyes a while
We see thee smile; how fondly smile!
But who reads not through that tender glow
Thy deep, unutterable woe:
Indeed no dazzling land above
Can cheat thee of thy children's love.
We all, in life's departing shine,
Our last dear longings blend with thine;
And struggle still and strive to trace
With clouded gaze, thy darling face.
We would not leave our native home
For any world beyond the Tomb.
No - rather on thy kindly breast
Let us be laid in lasting rest;
Or waken but to share with thee
A mutual immortality -

poem by Emily Jane Brontë
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Exile

I

At dead of night about the dying fire
They told a story how the dead appear;
And men, grown still with fear,
Forgot their old desire
For those who once were dear,
And shook and trembled lest their dead be near.

Alas, poor dead who were so sweet and human!
How are you grown a menace and a blight ­
A thing to shun, a thing of evil omen,­
Stealing unwelcome through the halls of night?,
Who knows? perhaps yourselves are much affrighted,
And struggle back, remote and bodiless,
Fearful of sounds unheard, visions unsighted,
Black echoes, and the bitter loneliness.

But for me, in my heart is no dread
Of the coming again of the dead,
But a terror of life, without one
Who made life to be life - and is gone.

II

Yes, at these tales of how the dead return,
Hope stirs within my spirit more than fear.
So strange, so strange it seems, you are not here,
And so unnatural to me 'tis to learn
The trick of life without you, year by year,

That not so strange could any specter be
Or fall of footsteps on the empty stair,
Or shapes discerned upon the shadowy air,
As is this haunting sense of vacancy,
And your persisting absence everywhere.

Ah, could I see, as in the tranquil past,
The form I long for - always and in vain, -
Should I not cry, like one released from pain:
'Dear and long absent, you return at last,
And life its natural aspect wears again!'

poem by Alice Duer Miller
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strange Times

Long time ago, back in the mist of time
Back when the crystal waters flowed
There was a world
So strange and so beautiful
All life would flourish and would grow
Years went by, time just fell away
Love was worshiped like the sun
But as we arrive at the house of the water sign
Were living in strange times
Strange times
Strange times
What do we need
What do we hunger for
Who holds the secrets, who will know
Temples of greed
In ruins on the river bed
Wastelands that lived before the snow
Time stands still
As we race through the universe
On our way to the sun
And as we arrive at the house of the water sign
Were living in strange times
Strange times,
Strange times
Its you and I forever
We wont be afraid
Even if the stars are falling down, down, down, down, down
Falling down
Time stands still as we race through the universe
On our way to the sun
And as we arrive at the house of the water sign
Were living in strange times
Strange times,
Strange times
(repeat)

song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Train

Full blown silence in an empty room
A former bride and a former groom
A folding table and a folding chair
A folded hand of poker there
All new directions must go everywhere
Big round people in a cool little square
You cant cut it with a boat or a plane
Man its gonna take a new train
Youll be leaving on a new train
Far away from this world of pain
And when you look out your window youll see
Your home your baby and your family
No melted ice cube in a paper cup
Hell youll be happy youll be all shook up
The friends that greet you will be
Simple and plain
When you step down from that new train
Collected volumes of history say
Man makes mistakes most everyday
The half a pound of chopped ground round
Is still a burger when it goes downtown
No faded photographs of yesterdays
Are in the books that I read these days
To fly away from that memory town
You must keep both your feet on the ground
Cause youll be leaving on a new train
Far away from this world of pain
And when you look out your window youll see
Your home your baby and your family
No melted ice cube in a paper cup
Hell youll be happy youll be all shook up
The friends that greet you will be
Simple and plain
When you step down from that new train
Ill be leaving on a new train
Far away from this world of pain
The friends that greet me will be
Simple and plain
When I step down from that new train
New train, new train.

song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Broken Silence

I've always tried to please everyone but me,
But now I've had enough
I'm done just let me be

I've know for a long time that the only way you'll love me
Is if I be who you want me to be
But not anymore I'm sorry,
Maybe the person you want me to be just isn't me

I'm done pretending I'm happy all the time
I'm done feeling so miserable to the point of crying

You've never been shy about telling me that if I didn't conform
You'd get rid of me like all the rest
Well I'm sorry but I'm done
Guess I failed the test

I've tried my best to deal with the pressure
And my best to stay sane,
But its useless because things around here
Are NEVER going to change

I've always suffered in silence up until now
And at times I look back and ask myself how?
How did I sit there in all my misery and pain and stay silent?
All I know is they're over
All my days of being quite

I guess you could say suffering in silence was my token,
But not anymore
Because my silence has forever been broken

poem by Tiger Lily Love
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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