Questions But Where Are the Answers?
The rain falls softly on the window. Reminding me of the little pains in my heart.
Fir in every drop lies a memory rather forgotten.
Loves lost, friends gone, chances never taken.
With the first swish of my hand, the drops turn into a small river.
To wash away, never seen again.
If only I could wipe the pain from my heart that easily.
When did my heart become so black? Was it early on when I did not know what pain was?
It seems I have always known the pain of regret.
The grip of misery.
I learned early the grief of abuse, mistrust and yes even the hatred of the opposite sex.
What did I do to deserve this fate?
Is there something inherently wrong in my soul and heart?
Why do I repeatedly fall into the trap of trusting.
Only to wind up getting hurt.
Scars heaped on scars.
Building walls that no one can break.
Copyright © Julia Brown Badr | Year Posted 2009
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