Cried
I cried while you were gone.
The t
e
a
r
s
they s t u n g my cheeks.
It left a trail, a crimson water
in a pool of former me.
And I wallowed in the thought
that this is what it is.
And no m
a
t
t
e
r where I find myself,
The control e v a d e s my grip.
And I try to fight
and fight
and fight.
I try to just forget.
The thoughts I find inside my head
Are too hard to relive.
I refuse to be a slave,
to the pauper and the King.
I lay my weary head d
o
w
n
Not ashamed, but struggling.
Copyright © Ira Dawson | Year Posted 2012
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