Sitting here on what used to be our bed,
you must be worn out as you're still running through my head.
Pitter patter pitter patter all day long's all I hear,
but how can that be when to me you're nowhere near?
Is it my mind that I am losing?
I don't know what to do anymore, it's all become so confusing.
I want to give my heart again but you still have it in your hands,
you have to let me go and let me make my own plans.
You'd think you were road runner, always one step ahead of me,
waiting to pounce and tear away the rug from under me.
Causing me to fall for you yet a bloody gain,
why must you insist on my parade to cascade your rain?
I know what I'll do I'll sleep away my pain,
but you've etched your being in me like an irremovable stain.
I don't dream anymore it's so hard when it's time to wake,
as for a split second I believe that what we had wasn't fake.
The sad truth is it was and you're not good for a thing,
just like a nettle when I touched you all you promised was a sting.
You stung me good and offered no antiseptic,
merely laughed at me and christened me pathetic.
That's how they all see me all because of you,
I'll never fathom out why you do what you do?
The evidence you've smashed me to pieces I can now show,
as I show the world my TEAR-STAINED PILLOW!!
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Jeffrey Headley (188.8.131.52) -- Sunday, December 14 2014, 04:39 am|
I wrote a poem called 'Tear Stained Pillows'which was about child abuse and was looking to see if I could find it online. Your poem was one that showed up and that showed me I was not alone in my tears. Thanks
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