For Love She Died

Somewhere in the heart
A love can be replaced.
It’s where life is interrupted
By the magnetic graves.

In such moment of ours
We wonder why we must occur.
But we can’t find the comfort.
We can’t revive her.

Save her.
The youth in death.
She loves to laugh,
But has no breath.

9-31-1992 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire
Inspiration:Dying Inside Your Love

Love is Fragile

Love is fragile… and begging for me.
Will it grab for me… could it be so sweet?
What’s the secret if I run?
Could I be the only one?
I want to see just what you’ve had,
But I’m afraid it may be sad.
Why would I hold you if I know we’ll carry on?
It’s just a phase we all express before we’re gone.

9-28-1992
Written by Gail Brookshire

Dying Alive, We Tried to Fight

Confusion, people.
It’s not so simple.
The reason why
We build the temple.
We fight with might to save the night.
And dare the one who said, “Let’s fight.”

The child alive, the child inside.
Will it live, or will it die?

See, see. I cannot see.
What’s to come or what’s to be.
Can you help me – Guess not? Oh well.
Oh no, We’re going to hell.

Help, help. I lost myself.
I cannot find the timing belt.
Calling far, calling near.
Calling for someone to hear.
We lost the race. We lost the fight.
We do not need. We lost our right.

Hate, hate. I believe it’s too late.
I tried to love, but we only debate.

Keep it coming, keep it going.
What’s the point? We’re only growing.
See the need and feel the bleed.
It’s not the sex, it’s your inner greed.

Watch, watch. It’s at the top.
It’s getting ready to fall.
I cannot see your coming grave
When the covering is too small.
Help, help. I’m going to.
I loved the right to fight for you.
But now it’s over and we are dead.
It was all a game, but I enjoyed the thread.
Get it? Get ahead.

9-23-1992
Written by Gail Brookshire

…AHH, Exhale for Death

Life…
…painful, for those of us who live.
Though it’s not a choice.
It’s a duty we serve.
We cannot escape the overloading burden
That breathing requires oxygen,
And oxygen is our weakness.
It’s the supply for which we operate on.
Yet the disease we are all plagued with.
If for one moment we were allowed
To exhale or inhale…
… forever,
I would take my last breath.
And then ahhh…
…to death.

9-23-1992 Wednesday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Wicked and Wakened

Wicked and wakened.
The world was willingly wild.
I tried to ease the agony,
But the control belong to a child.
It was such a horrible thing,
The way the world was on top.
With the opportunity to kill someone,
I guess no one’s to say, “Stop!”
So why are you still here?
Did you forget something?
What was the original play?
I want to keep something.

9-17-1992
Written by Gail Brookshire

It Had To Be

No one knew,
So no one could help.
No one saw it,
So no one could save.
It was just one of those things
That had to happen.
It was meant to be.
It was inevitable.
It could not be alleviated.
It was meant to be of this world.
A thing we could not stop.
And as of now… cannot ever erase.
It was just one of those things.
It had to be.
No one knew,
But no one cared.
It had to be.

9-17-1992
Written by Gail Brookshire
God is my hero.

Knives, Swords, and Jagged Edges

Knives and swords, and jagged edges.
No one fulfills their lethal pledges.
Strong and firm, tough together.
What’s the harm in once forever?
I can’t believe the agony
Within your pleading cry.
If I had to stand again,
I’d only break and die.
So what’s the point in harming you,
If you are hurting me?
It’s not the end of misery.
It’s just the way to see.

9-3-1992
Written by Gail Brookshire

Unreasonable

Sometimes it’s hard
Getting over a rut.
But the way life continues,
It’s no surprise at all
That we learn to keep control.
Why should we have to fight?
There’s no one left to survive.
Should we really worry about it?
Let’s not worry about the question.
It’s just like the answer, unreasonable.
Too easy to rationalize.
Sometimes that can be the problem.
To make sense of things
Confusing and complicated.
Keeping track of the meaningless,
I retire to attire my sleep.

9-2-1992 Tuesday
Written by Gail Brookshire
PS. God has made life, love, and everything that He has offered 
more than reasonable!

Pouring Pain

I kept crying, but no one heard me.
The man alive… just had to hurt me.
He stole a life from a smiling child.
He placed a knife and drove it wild.
He pushed and turned as his hand enjoyed.
The endless torture, my body annoyed.
There wasn’t any justice to the attack.
You kept on going, never looking back.
You were so scared of what he’d do,
If someone helped me and it was you.
You coward. You just left me to die.
I screamed for your help, but had to cry.
You left me in blood, my body pouring out.
You couldn’t rescue me, or help me out.
Stay away, you deserter. I’m dead.
You said you cared, but left instead.

8-23-1992 Sunday
Written by Gail Brookshire
God is my hero.

So Much Pain

It’s pain. So much pain.
It hurts so bad.
It can be cured,
The wait is what’s so sad.
We argue and fight,
Keeping our nerves on edge.
But for now it’s just pain.
It’s an agging wedge.
It’s so strong… the pain.
I can’t find a way to ease it.
Just to comfort the pain a little.
To try, is just to tease it.
It’s so hard to stop
The pain that’s persisting.
I beg for mercy or comfort,
But the pain keeps insisting.
Help. there’s got to be a way.
To stop the pain and make it go away.
It’s just so horrible.
It hurts so much.
The pain’s so hard,
My fists are clutched.
Please help me.
The pain is so intense.
I want to get up,
But my pain still wins.
It’s just an agony, a death it seems.
To steal my breath, to steal my screams.
It’s so alarming how I hurt.
But to try and smile, makes it worse.

8-18-1992 Tuesday
Written by Gail Brookshire
PS. God is my Healer! My Comfort!

Stressed Out

More and more and more complications.
My life is just so frustrating.
The more I try to hold on,
The more complicated the waiting.
Why must life be so hard?
Why must people complain?
If everyone loves the sun so much,
Then why make so much rain?
We are all losing so fast
To this world in a race.
The beauty of our youth and love
Is replaced with worry wrinkles on the face.
Someone please make this world easier.
It’s getting so hard to stay.
I know we’re supposed to be strong,
But it’s getting harder every day.
Maybe I will survive today.
Maybe I’ll survive this life.
But I sure wish it was easier,
And filled with a lot less strife.

7-24-1992 Friday
Written by Gail Brookshire
PS. God is my hero.

Eminent Rejections

Frosted warnings,
Evil mornings,
No one left too soon.
We were all at fault
For the inevitable fall,
Beneath the devious moon.
We allegate
The coming fate,
By allowing all the tears.
But never once
Ask for what
Could save the approaching years.
We specialize
In explaining lies,
Just for verification
Of the endless longing
For all our wronging.
We make the justification.
Well now have I
Found goodbye
To the one who taught me this.
I send to you
A wish or two,
To reject your eminent kiss.

7-9-1992 Wednesday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Wet Tombstones

Stone – so ice cold
And heartless even more.
Cobwebs form on the edges.
Spiders shut their door.
White – the ridges on chipped pieces.
Sand so old but moist.
All the grass is growing back,
But the fall is coming first.
You creep beneath the dirt
And scare yourself away.
Digging for safety
You beg for any normal way.
Why are you so confused?
This is where you wanted to be,
Beneath the moistened rock
To set the tombstones free.

6-17-1992 Wednesday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Maybe He’s Crying

Maybe he’s crying.
Maybe he’s actually sorry he did.
He never meant to hurt us.
The secret will always be hid.
He may have been in agony.
He may have been in pain.
Maybe he’s now down there crying.
Wishing he could be here again.
He may be wishing he could be here
To help those who need his love.
He may be in waiting,
To receive his wings from above.
He may be in wishful thinking.
He may be crying out.
But I’ll never know if he is,
Or what he’s crying about,
If he is in agony,
Or wishes that he were back.
Please let him know I love him so
And ask God to help him to relax.

6-17-1992 Wednesday
Written by Gail Brookshire
Inspiration: my cousin
I am so glad taught me about being absent from the body is to be present with the Lord, and the example of the thief on the cross beside Jesus that was assured he would be in paradise with Jesus that day. My cousin is safe with Jesus.

My Only Satisfaction

My God, I owe you so much.
I’m dying and I can’t get up.
My fantasies have been my sin.
My transgressions were just giving in.
You have my heart, but I continue to disgrace my body.
You give me so much life, yet I keep risking my death.
You love me with everything I have and am,
And yet it’s your love that needs my attention.
Help me, God.
Am I too far gone,
To be worthy of love,
Of Your love,
Of forgiveness?
Am I so bad off that I could never know
Of simplicity in love?
Could I never have a chance for
Heaven and eternal life?
Could I be doomed?
NO!!
I love God and have faith in Him
And the words He promised me,
When He said He would love me forever,
For all that I am,
And that He would be merciful
And forgive me of my sins.
No, I’m not saying I expect His forgiveness,
Nor that I committed these things knowing
That I would be Undoubtedly forgiven.
I was just stupid, done them, and hated myself
Every step of the way.
God, I love You for life.
Over all guys, friends, family, material things, and any pleasures.
You are my only satisfaction!

6-9-1992 Tuesday
Written by Gail Brookshire