I lived most my life ~ trying to hide the sin that made me who I am
worse part I’d do it all again ~ rather than being seen as this sham
By
David Kavanagh
First glance
Your face has got me
Do I stand a chance?
The one I wish is thee
It were your eyes
The ones of highness
It were you
My only kindness
The English voice
That calmed me deep
The one to stop the noise
The one to stop me weep
The mind of greatness
The only one I long for
The beauty of a sadness
Perhaps you wanted more
But I was true
I crossed the earth
Just to see you
I expected mirth
Oh, I thought without a fear
I want you near
You want me here
Oh, what happened dear
Was it me or the distance
Was it me or someone else
Please help me in this instance
I will believe your tells
You didn’t say a thing
Which crushed my heart
And it made me think
“Should I depart?”
You fooled me more than month
A game was played
I lost it stunned
But the memories will never fade
You made me who I am
You made love believable
I had to understand
You are too deceivable
Yet I fancy you from start
I always will
You make my foolish heart
Do not stay still
I think on the relief to remove my past,
Of failures and mistakes along the way.
It seems things would heal up fast,
Oh, the hurt, but what a cast,
That made me who I am today.
Cherished are things seen; now I know,
To hit rock bottom stop the digging.
Unfurled instead, their worth does show,
All the lessons firm I stow;
To sail so far is all in the rigging.
I look at my soul killing its flaws. I appreciate it and let it do so. But when I came back to earth to show them a perfect human, I realized my mistakes made me who I am. Without my flaws, I am just a perfect human—but not me.
Good morning there
Here I come..
With nothing in hand
But promise of the better you
I lament no more…
The torment of the past
Remain in the past
Here I pass my greetings.
I wax thinking my yesterday was the worst
Until I heard you are the best
Then I got perplexed by your possibilities
I got possessed by your peace
Here i’m coming for you…
I am one with those who think you ain’t real
In the realm of your existence
You are a fairytale a joke of decades.
But your smell proved us all wrong…
Your scent so silent in nature
Your aroma invites not just everyone
It chooses the chosen and chase the cheats
It shatter strong walls for the new sun
The new day and the new beginning
Of the new hope.
My past made me who I am
My present is who I am
I’m longing for your essence of touch
I’m ready to be you and dine with you
Future here I come…
Yesterday has done and gone
It has disappeared
All i’m left with are the memories
The saddest of them which bring sorrow
I need you by my side dear future
You are all I have and all I need right now…
I WALK AROUND WITH A BACKPACK FULL OF MEMORIES, DOZENS OF PICTURES, AND MOMENTS CAPTURED IN MY HEART AND MIND.
I WISH I COULD RETURN TO SOME MOMENTS, AND THERE ARE SOME MOMENTS THAT I WOULD LIKE TO EASE FROM EXISTENCE.
MY EXPERIENCES HAVE MADE ME WHO I AM, A UNIQUE, EMOTIONAL, LOVING, AND CARING MAN.
THE BEATINGS THAT I HAVE TAKEN FROM LIFE HAVE MADE ME A STRONGER, VIGILANT INDIVIDUAL.
I WANT EVERYBODY TO KNOW WHO I AM.....
“A meandering river, I flow through this life, over its many plains, as well as its low valleys and high peaks, learning and loving much along the way.” - by author
Those who know me
should know exactly who I am,
for I show my flaws as well as my strengths
in things I say or do.
I’m the product of my culture and things taught me.
I’m a wife, sister, mother, teacher and true friend,
but there is more to it than that.
I’m a daughter of God; He made me who I am.
Before my birth,
God knew me, and he knows my fate.
A meandering river, I keep on
growing and changing paths.
Ever I’m learning from new experiences.
A seeker of truth and a warrior of words,
toward the inevitable
I flow (knowing both joy and pain) back to my home.
Martin
Softly spoken, conscientious, thoughtful, union man,
The proud son of a nurse, no stranger to, “the pan”,
Loving the blues and blue grass, I’m a Bolton Wanderers fan,
Feeling hopeful, happy or sad, I walk outdoors when I can,
Fearing for the grand-kids, the planet, the common man,
Hoping for peace in Gaza, Ukraine and Sudan,
Bolton, North West England, made me who I am,
Challender
I can't believe the grand-kids used be so small,
they're two very special boys,
growing fast, they'll soon walk tall,
the time we spend is special, sharing hours of joy.
Thomas Hood said he recalled the house where he was born
He would not recognise it now, its structure is long gone
But as for me, and where I’m from, the house still stands today
Although my family home no more, I fear to pass that way
Time moves on and people change, I know that to be true
But memories from those four walls, they stick to me like glue
The garden toys, the trees to climb, the rickety lean to
The things that made me who I am, they echo through and through
We had our ups and downs, we did, what family does not
But on the whole we lived and laughed and read an awful lot
And after many years had passed, it came so clear to me
The things they went without for us, the things they made us see
I like to think I’m kind and fair, I try to do my best
Though never have I really had to put it to the test
So where I’m from, I have to say, the answer lies within
A drop of this, a pinch of that, mixed up inside my skin
And if anybody says to me, “who do you think you are?”
I’ll say who made me what I am and thank my lucky stars
Beautiful struggle.
Struggle taught me to be bold.
It taught me not to be whom, I was the previous day
Struggle taught me to be strange and
It taught me to wise and dumb at the same time
Struggle made me who I am today.
The bigger part of me is made of struggle.
It taught me to see things I never knew.
It showed me future in a present way that's was harsh.
Struggle gave me best lessons to be better.
It showed me peace when everyone was crying.
It taught me difference between hate and love.
Struggle never left me alone.
It showed me flames but I made peace with it.
Struggle taught to praise victory no matter how small it is.
Struggle taught me that heroes are not born but made through pain.
Beautiful Struggle.
It taught me to have a very constricted mind.
Struggle and pain,are not the same in my world.
It will mould you and teach you to who you are.
Without Struggle I would never be myself again.
Happiness has no part in my diary
But Struggle is what I know best and the subject I do perfect.
I'm the Best, Beautiful Struggle.
By: #zMafia_GP??????
My heart is soft like fragile clay
To bend and move within Your hands
Emotions grow, then fade away
As life is changed by Your commands
For You alone, O Potter, can
Make usefulness from my weak clay
From dust and ashes You made man
You made me who I am today
And as You wisely fashion me
And I am changed by what You say
Unchanging truths You show to me
You leave impressions that will stay
And these impressions strengthen me
My clay is hardened–starts to stand
As You continue molding me
How glad am I within Your hand!
So blessed am I to be transformed
Into Your vessel, pure and clean
That all the wonders You preformed
Within me might be clearly seen
Take a good look at me,
I am not confused about who or what I should be.
But you have tried to rob me of my innocence and spirit too,
And today is just a reminder of the pain and hurt that you have put me through.
Look into my eyes and see the pain that I try to hide behind each tear,
You should have been the one, who made me feel safe and free,
I wish I could crawl into the earth and disappear,
For when I look into the mirror I see a stranger looking back at me.
Are you afraid to look at me because you know you are guilty?
I have traded in my dolls and pony tails to embrace my reality.
How could I remain a child when I will never be free?
I beg you, look at me! Look at me for you have made me who I am –a bitter child
And I will never, ever again be me.
I have had such difficulty touching pen to paper.
Even with my growing sadness.
Emotions reaching heights that fill my soul with despair.
A despair in which I thought has left me.
I now know it was just at rest.
Sleeping beneath the cobwebs.
Deep within waiting for a grand awakening.
I know this despair forms from watching my Mother.
I feel the pain, sense the confusion.
Her mind is going.
Her memories are all turning into shadows.
With all my star wishes.
With all the prayers I release into the air.
I know someday she will be gone.
I tell her how much I truly love her.
I hold her dear to my heart.
A tie that can never be broken.
I look into those hazel eyes.
A wondurous realization that took to long takes hold.
She is the one who made me who I am.
She did it all to make me strong.
I visit her there in those depressive rooms, sit and hold her hand.
I bring her flowers.
Watch the childlike joy.
As she touches the petals to her nose.
My eyes well with tears I try to hide.
I brush her cheek with a kiss.
I confirm, I will return.
I will continue to bring her flowers.
Although, I know she will not remember me being there.
I am a woman created in the image of God.
I was created to walk beside Adam,
And never to beneath him.
God created me special, different from a man.
He made me who I am.
I have a uterus that keeps a baby safe.
Every month I released my eggs and bleed.
One special quality a man does not need.
In my womb life grows,
After a man’s sperm, penetrated my ovum.
My babies nestled against my breast,
When they needed milk, love, and rest.
I have a and not a ,
And it makes me different from Adam.
My voice does not break during puberty.
My body releases more estrogen,
To help me develop into a woman.
I am a woman different from a man
God created me who I am.
The turnkey to my heart? A skeleton;
It’s understanding the rhythm and more
importantly? The rhyme;
It’s hearing my past and calming
every thought of the future,
listening as I reveal my soul;
Shattered or in one piece
I relish every sip of you;
So go on, taste me;
It’s opening the closet and being
okay with the chaotic mess
because it made me who I am;
It’s dancing with two left feet
just so I can feel less awkward;
Still loving every minute of it;
So go on sip on me,
shattered or in one piece;
I relish every time you taste;
It’s knowing I’m not always sunny,
but loving my moonless dark sky;
The portal to my heart? A skeleton key.
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