Patience
Patience that dwells within me is a mere tolerance to the impending pain that is brought before me in a secret way. Beyond the doubt I am immune to those that bring pain but I am not immune to mine self. Horrid I may sound but the truth is, is that I am patient with your immense torture and grow weary of those who think they are unhappy when they got everything they need. Why I may ask do I, How am I not happy and where do I go from here?
I lack the knowledge and I lack my sense of sanity for whom do I trust and for whom do I oblige my differences? I am without kisses and hugs that would fill my cup full of happiness - I am without love so where did I get my patience and tolerance for others. I must say my every aging experiences of my dreaded life do I gain my patience. May it be God -may it be me but I am at peace with it. Then again when, do I ask, when do I get to have my love – when does my pain stop? Even though I may be at peace and have a great and mighty patience, my true envious needs are within those who have obtained there true love. I am in need for the simple joys of a wet kiss and for someone to say three simple words that can warm my dark soul to the brink of true happiness.
I am alone – I am gone from the face of love’s embrace. For whom do I seek it and for whom do I gain it? I say no one shall I ever get it for my broken heart is never meant to be mended but through my writing it does. My heart – my soul – my sanity all goes into the simple pieces of cream sheets of elegant paper and permanent ink. My complex imagination creates a vivid detail of art that inspires all but it only fills some of my loneliness that does not cease to stop me from myself.
Like I said again patience, my patience is only for the one that is waiting behind the gates of my blinded vision. She is invisible and I cannot see for my broken heart has blinded my soul. I am to ever be in this transgression for years to come but how did I end up here? My writing is the only thing that I have and it makes no sense at all to feel blind for my happiness. But I am not happy – every day I wake up and I would look over my cozy and luxurious bed and see the empty spot that is too depressing to even be visible. I am without love and love has no meaning no more to me but if it were to have a meaning it would be to have your heart stomped into the dust of the earth and to cry and long for it – My patience draws as my misery does. I am alone and heartbroken and no one to be with and to talk to is worse than anything imaginable.
My patience will help me wait for more but as the day gets longer so does my emptiness….
YOU ARE READING
~Remember Who You Are~
PoetryMy poetic masterpieces are shown through this book. A bit of a warning, some of the material may conatin suicide and very hateful messages but all in the right boundaries. It has no cussin whatsoever.
