The Martyr
She always greets with a quick smile
Sparkling eyes assure her concern
A soft handshake for human touch
Turning away, the smile then fades
Her eyes grow dim and without life
The soft human touch recedes, stone
For deep inside her broken heart
Remains a self inflicted wound
From long ago, when life began
No matter how grand her fortune
Nothing will erase the awful past
Never accepting happiness
She’ll always remain the martyr
© Copyrights G. Jones 2008
Copyright © Gary Jones | Year Posted 2008
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