Rising Quiet Storm.

Tears slowly form, and run down my pain sighted eyes
Ashamed of what I’ve become
Ashamed of my
life
Hurting something terrible
close to the edge
my only relief would be if i were dead
stuck and confused
not knowing if the things you say are true
I trusted you with my life
I trusted you with my heart
and now you laugh as you slowly rip it apart
Feeling the rip long after the tear
I look at my life, and realize it’s not fair
a young black soul
standing alone
looking lost
looking cold
no arms to keep me warm
rising up into a quiet storm.

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Comments (2)
  • The Quail 1957 on Jan 30, 2011

    Interesting poem filled with real pain and angush. Sometimes we must look deep within ourself to find the answers to that which we seek.

  • pattiann on Jan 30, 2011

    Thank you for writing this. It is a good poem. I don’t mean good in that you are sad, I mean it is an excellently written poem.

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