Only through the page I write
Can I be expressed.
I’ve tried to love the others right,
But did not give my best.
I’ve tried to stop them walking away,
But somehow pushed them out.
I’d try to stop the memories,
But my heart would be in drought.
It’s just another way for life
To show us that we’re weak,
That though we swear we may be strong,
We always have a leak.
Understand my little cry,
Through which I cannot voice.
I’d try to walk away in vain,
But do not have a choice.

8-5-1990 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire