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