Now we were not always like a ring fitting so comfortably on anothers finger
or a sun shining through clouds on a mild spring day
there were echoes of your pain inflicted onto me
my intentions pure and like honey
you stole my honey and you drained my will
just so you could take a big paper payment 'bill'
money always meant more to you
and I was feeling
because what I felt was real, even if you didn't
seeing that you are a deliberate choke
imagining that you had the killing joke
but my heart had to overcome your deceit
know this you sugar coated thorn bush
even with the threat of death, I would not have succumbed to this
even with God not answering my calls, I would not have ever fallen
you know the damage and you left it unfinished
apologies that flew like pigs
a hand that I knew, hid in the mist
I'm not crying, I have sand in my eyes.
Please consider reading ‘Your Eyes’ published in 2020.
If by Rudyard Kipling (really inspirational)
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!