Like the drunk, now sober,
My luck, a four leaf clover,
I no longer need your shoulder,
I’m over this.
Like a child who busts his parents,
Telling him Santa is a figment,
Telling him his skill is not a talent,
I’m over this.
Like a little girl who threw her teddy,
She is growing up already,
For the world, she might be ready,
I’m over this.
Like a worker once fired,
Days before he is retired,
Got more than was required,
I’m over this.
Like a poet once rejected,
Writes more than was expected,
Years later, words upon reflected,
I’m over this.
Like a the lamb, once slain,
That will rise and rise again,
Until a lion it became,
I’m over this.
Like you left I’m moving on,
My life, is going on,
You may think my heart torn,
But I’m over this.
On the inside I am fighting,
Yet still for you I’m writing,
These words need no reciting,
Because,
I’m not over this.
I love this. I feel it. I've lived it. I think many will relate. check the 6th stanza.
ReplyDeleteThis is a wee bit unlike the Woozie poet I'm used to. But I like it. Especially the honesty at the end.
ReplyDeleteT .. thanks... =)
ReplyDeleteMercy... Yeah I was exploiting other style honestly speaking I don't feel comfortable in the clickety clack clothing expect the old woozie back soon enough. =)Thanks though..