Losing A House. So sharp, Is disappointment. It keens right to the edge of feeling, Leaving a raw wound That weeps In frustration and anger. A gnawing pain White hot, Piercing nerve ends. Curling round stomach muscles; Drawing one’s body up In a defensive, foetal position. While Inwardly, The brain rages Silently, Against the perpetrator; To no avail. For nothing can be done Except to continue suffering. Thought for the day: Sometimes things just happen for a reason!
1 Comment
Paula South
17/11/2016 08:38:32 pm
Great poetry with plenty of feeling!
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