Writer’s don’t write, we feel.
And we put it on paper.
Yeah, we imagine things, but it comes
From the hurt and heart we’ve had.
We cannot possibly write something
So fake that it had nothing to do with
Anything we had to feel.
Even in our imaginations,
We see the dreams we perceive,
The nightmares we escape,
The continuing heartache
That keeps dragging us down,
And the many things keeping us going.
We are not to be blamed for what we feel.
We are what others have made us to be
By hurting us, loving us, or deceiving us.
Whichever you choose to see
Or discover in our expressions.
It’s just another way of getting hurt again,
So read on and move on. I’m sure it’s nothing new,

10-25-1992 Sunday
Written by Gail Brookshire