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Denee Swearingin Poem
They say one is the loneliest number,
And two heads are better than one.
But I say -1 is worse,
Because then you know what’s missing.
They say it is better to have loved and lost,
Then to never have loved at all
But they also say ignorance is bliss,
And knowing is half the battle
[Go Joe!]
The hell that is loss,
Is greater than lonely.
So I say screw them/they.
Learn to love yourself-
The only one who will be there for life…
Without you +1 or -1 doesn’t matter…
(It all averages out in the end…)
Copyright © Denee Swearingin | Year Posted 2010
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Denee Swearingin Poem
Five, three, two, one, four;
Eleven, eight, ten, six, nine;
Seven, thirteen, twelve.
Copyright © Denee Swearingin | Year Posted 2012
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Denee Swearingin Poem
As I sit all alone
On the bed in my room
I stare at the clothes
I have yet to exhume
I begin to believe
There is no one for me
So I sit and I stare
And still no one is there
Hear a cry down the hall
Of a baby long gone
And the hole in my soul
Seems to stretch on and on.
I begin to believe
This is all I should be
So I sit and I stare
But still no one is there
The lies and the pain
Are still here every day
I scream and I cry
But no tears remain
They dried long ago
And no more seem to come
So I sit and I stare
And still no one is there
Even me.
Copyright © Denee Swearingin | Year Posted 2010
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Denee Swearingin Poem
As I sit with my friends
In the green comfy chair
I laugh and I smile
At their stories of guile
I forget my own life
Filled with pain and with strife
My focus starts to stray
Their voices fade away
So I sit and I stare
As if no one was there
Then I snap back to now
Their explanations go on
So I listen and watch
While the story unfolds
And it ends as it should
All tied up in a bow
At the end of the hour
Now my mood turns sour
As my friends fade away
And my life rushes back
So I sit and I stare
Since there was no one there
Only TV.
Copyright © Denee Swearingin | Year Posted 2010
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Denee Swearingin Poem
The sins of the father
Are visited upon the son
But the failings of the mother
Come calling as well.
I hear the blows land
From down the hallway
Helpless to intervene
Powerless to prevent them.
One decision from the past
Haunts everyday.
Reiterating my dual failings
As both a mother and a daughter.
Copyright © Denee Swearingin | Year Posted 2010
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Denee Swearingin Poem
To sleep and then perchance to dream,
the morbid truth's what lies beneath.
The question that remains is this...
what waits beyond-be it torture or bliss?
When faced with life, another query looms...
be those you love true friends or foes?
This answer shall remain unseen,
whilst you survive stuck in-between.
The truth of both will be revealed,
only after the day your heart goes still.
Copyright © Denee Swearingin | Year Posted 2012
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