She died that day, kept all inside,
No longer daddy’s joy and pride.
The little girl that love rejected,
forgotten in her wayward stride.
She turned to other things and men
and they did have their way, but then
she never seemed to learn from them;
the spin-cycle started once again.
She tried and tried to face her fears
but all the abject lies and tears
did make for thrilling bedside tales.
If only someone new would hear.
She lived to love another day,
never learned the error of her ways;
no, not then or now or when.
Perhaps tomorrow: ‘til then, she’ll pray.
I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.
Click here to find out how to purchase a copy
Laidback DM: SteveStillStanding.com 
I bet this is true far more than we’d like to know.
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This poem was a bit unusual for me in that it was a story, not based on my own experience. Im probably watching too much Netflix lol 🙂
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Hahaha! mmmm – maybe. Still… it’s good. I like it.
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Cheers, Tara! 🙂
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I love this piece it resonates with me.
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Thanks so much! Sometimes I’m not sure how my poems will go with readers until I get a few comments! 🙂
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That’s the uncertainty of being a writer but nevertheless we write still.
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Amen, sister 🙂
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I particularly like this one Steve, poignant.
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Thanks, Nikita! All my stuff is pretty poignant, I think lol 🙂
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