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Poetry continued
This piece is one of my first. It is also my only published work which I have won an award for.
As my first it is my favorite and I consider it my best.
In my life I've walked the path.
A hundred different roads.
Always feeling the lasting touch
of forever being old.
I look around and all I see
are actors of the play.
And knowing I will never allow
myself to feel as they.
I watch them as through windows.
I've never taken part
in living for tomorrow
or leading with my heart.
I don't allow the pleasure
of ever feeling touch.
To kiss,to hold
the things of heart and such.
I sit and wonder why I don't
and have one thing to say.
That in the end what I had to give
was abruptly taken away.
I hold no anger toward that day.
'Twas passion so he thought.
And to this day I wonder what
it was to make him stop.
His "passion" I remember
a comparison to this day.
But the ones whom do now suffer
are the ones that now come my way.
I try to let myself give in
and push aside my fears.
Trying to remember all the things
I once had held so dear.
The walls I build they have no doors
no gates in which to enter.
I try to act as everyone
but with one touch I remember.
I smile.I laugh.I go through the day.
But inside my heart does break.
And in the end I'll always know,
'twas my soul I let him take.
The above artwork is entitled "Captive" .
I thought it was appropriate to the piece.
