Pathetic was demeanour,

pitiful to see,

holding onto victimhood,

refusing to be me.

Lamentable the moaning,

inadequate the mind,

wretched was my state;

reason left behind.

Plaintive were my cries,

feeble was my heart,

paltry was all comfort;

hope was torn apart.

Harrowing the moments,

poignant and forlorn,

grieving in my sorrow;

dreams forever  yawn.

Righteous was my feeling,

moral and profound,

principled my keening;

ethical my ground.

Rightful were my cries,

allowable my pain,

acceptable my raging;

noble was my gain.

Until the angels cautioned,

sedate in their appeals,

gentle, calm and soothing;

tranquil could I feel.

And in that place of reason,

where dignity did live,

I could summon memory,

remember how to give.

Shaking off the mantle,

of my victimhood,

grace did settle quietly;

forgive you, I then could.


About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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