I am a canvas with a unique shade –
Why do you laugh and stare with such disgust?
This is my life, this is how I was made;
We are born the same and return to dust.
The words break me like stones break fragile glass,
I sink deeper into my own despair:
I fight against the hate in every class;
Life’s face is cruel when you are past repair.
Every time I get up to fight again,
I do not want to be kept down and out!
Hope gets blurred through the strain and pain;
I counter the hateful torturous shout.
Yet deep within I know there is defence:
Karma gets us and plans the consequence.
She has the special gift of love inside,
giving freely of herself to her blood.
She places her faith with them, to abide.
Her care – simply stated – one great, strong flood.
Those who step into her life will be graced
with her boundless care and compassionate
temperament. She has felt struggle, yet faced
them head on; her morals fast, abstinent.
She offered her hand when I was hit down.
I took it, with thanks in my eyes and heart.
They laugh with hate; in them I used to drown.
But she knew it was special, this, the start.
Her spirit will survive the harsh beatings.
One day, from heaven, she will send greetings.
Desires deep within an unexplained place
that stretch out to hold your existence tight,
urge unexplained to help define your space:
I crave to slave to this reason; your fight.
Yearning to the metaphysical voids,
great achievers of this fine attainment.
Levels so beyond; an angel’s toxoid
that transforms and evolves beyond; gift sent.
How is it being gives definition?
Offer a slice of sugary truthful;
inspire creativities, creation:
changing soberly square into joyful!
Yet such a passion-love does often kill;
In living, though, this is no harmful ill.
A broken heart and pain is all I bear,
Wrecked, torn, beaten and shattered by life’s fist;
My dulled soul seeps happiness from its tear:
Sharp, sickly shards which my existence mist.
I fell in love with those who liked real me,
They all changed the way I felt about life;
With them, oh, it seemed that I could just be.
They failed: results of the paternal strife!
My greatest strength, my greatest weakness too:
My caring and loving hurts me each day,
Unto life’s wooden cross I said, “I do.”
My debts on earth one day I will them pay.
But for life has not been that much so kind,
She has a reason: my life I must find.