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Patricia Doyle Poem
YOUR VICTIM
I live free, in your prison.
I run, standing still.
I cry, without tears.
I scream, in silence.
I stand, when knocked down.
I smile, while I frown.
I have strength, although weak.
I have shame, in my pride.
I have feelings, deep inside.
I breathe, though I am dead.
I hear your voice, in my head.
I am your Victim!
Copyright © Patricia Doyle | Year Posted 2019
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Patricia Doyle Poem
There was a young lady,
That could not even to afford shoes;
She had eight children'
And thought "what should I do?"
The young lady had problems-to just speak of 3'
Addiction, Mental Health, anti-social personality.
To do what was right, did not come easy to her;
But her heart screamed out, there is only one way to be sure!
With out any shoes-and need of a fresh start,
A decission she made;with a heavy heart.
Each child was placed with a new mother you see,
Now she said it is time, to work on her; on me.
For many years-the young lady only could pray,
That all 8 childrenwould recieve more love than she could display.
The young lady prayed they found good hearted mothers,
And even grew up with other sister's, and brother's.
The young lady, thought to her-self one day,
Only God could show her if it was meant to be this way?
She dreamed of their mother's, wiping their nose;
And playing "This little piggy," with each of their toes.
Now many of years later,
And to the young ladies suprise;
One by one all 8 children,
Came back in her life!
Still to call her mother,
Did not feel quite right;
When it was someone else,
That kissed them good-night?
Yes, someone eles,
Brushed the tangles from their hair,
And kissed their foreheads goodnight;
To see if a feavor was there.
The best kind of "MOTHER,"
Is the one that knows that she is not ready;
And there are those who want children,
Who can not have any.
The young lady looked back,on those many years,
Pride filled her heart; as she choked back the tears;
Now also a new life the young lady prayed she diserved,
"Thanks to all Mothers," and the years that they served!
Copyright © Patricia Doyle | Year Posted 2019
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Patricia Doyle Poem
Mental Health…”is not a joke,”
When I try to hide, it is just provoked.
There is nowhere to run, and I cannot hide;
From these dark feelings… thoughts,
I have deep inside.
When I talk about the way, I feel,
Some run away;
Others say… ah, “it’s no big deal.”
The dark feelings-thoughts,
Grow worse within;
You turned your head, “what a shameful sin!”
The world seems smaller, I cry a lot,
My heart breaking… my body shaking;
Could it be just me? I pray not.
Once happy in life, now my strength slips away;
I find myself praying, for death every day.
Do I search the “net? Should I pick up the phone?
I am so tired, of feeling alone.
Each day that passes, the more clearly I see;
There are only two choices, the darkness or me?
I pick up the phone, this one last time;
I ask, “Please dear God,” just give me a sign.
My answer comes on this very day,
I am not alone; there are many this way.
It does not matter the colour of your skin,
There are millions that suffer; from mental illness within.
Around the world, and every day,
Mental illness; comes out to play.
There is no vaccination,
No one’s immune;
If you suffer in silence, “Please,” get some help soon!
By: Patricia D. Doyle
Copyright © Patricia Doyle | Year Posted 2019
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Patricia Doyle Poem
If Only For Today
If you wish to be,
Than go, and be;
Just be not what you were.
Past, is past; and nothing lasts?
There is so much more to learn.
Lesions’ come to everyone,
So take the good, with bad.
Remember when your skies turn grey,
Try not to feel so sad.
Look deep within your heart, my friend;
Listen to what I say,
Move on from pains of yesterday;
If only for today.
Copyright © Patricia Doyle | Year Posted 2019
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Patricia Doyle Poem
The road I chose to take today,
Had many twists, and turns;
It really tore me up in-side,
You'd think that I would learn?
I had a flat, so took jack,
To pump myself up high;
When this little girl smiled at me,
From a car that passed me by...
She reminded me of when I was young,
I loved to sing-and play;
But as I grew...that girl I knew,
Just seemed to slip away?
When I wake-up tomorrow,
To start another day;
I think I'll choose another road,
When I go on my way.
There are many roads with choices,
This I truly know;
I think back from where I came from,
Then where I want to go!
Copyright © Patricia Doyle | Year Posted 2019
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