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Coming clean

By James Kaymore | Category :: Poem

Bathing in my own self pity, over decisions that I have made. Soap and water can't cleanse me yet I continue to bathe.
What fills this tub in which I sit? When comes the time for me to get? What happens to me when the gloves fit? Does my judge and jury ever acquit?
Was it an I do when I don't? Was there an I will when I know that I won't?
Did I actually serve when I went to the service? When I felt like I was served and that I didn't deserve this.
Vows, broken of words spoken that was never ment but heres a token....of unappreciation.
My mediation, is a towel to dry me, my medication. From pity, when its my destination ..

Why, what, where, and when? Questioning the past time and time again. The difference between lovers and friends. On borrowed time, when there's none to lend.
So I pretend......
That control, what is within my grasp, but I suffocate from despair I choke and gasp.
The enemy is winning he sits and laughs. As I stumble over the many things that he has placed on my path. But back to this bath.
Of pain and neglect, all done to myself as I go back and check. The executioners axe the noose on my neck. The rejection the loss the fear to connect. A stranger to love dialects last reject.
None but I can find comfort in this bed. The one that I made, with my heart from my head. Dathing in pity, going where I'm lead.
Think that maybe I'll shower instead.
So I wash in Gods blessings, his water and his bread. Every test was good food, and I am well fed. Cleansed by his love and raised from the dead.
Poetically I am Gifted

By James Kaymore | Jun 15, 2014 | Category > Poem >Hope | Comments | Views 4108

 
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