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

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Janetta Harrington

Date: 10/12/2008 7:58:00 AM

I am trying to get this right to say; i have met several martyr several times in my career. the poem just nails it and in unmistakable wording. definitely a 7. i have met one person that was actually mean, but covered this martyr personna. thankfully i must have met her at a time when she was off or felt i was no threat. in the last 15 years i saw her breakdown other peers, doctors or whomever.....and she was not even the boss. yes, i know her and i don't trust anyone perfect.