I tried to put the past aside
With all the feelings I held in side
I sought and forgave
Though others did rave
What is she to say about me
Is there anything a bout me some asked
Never mind it is the hidden being inside
That I took in stride
I wrote of my days
I cried of my nights
Yet all there was was a life striving to be lived
with what ever the powers up above could give
In some days there was winning
Other days there was losing
Yet there were many in between ones
Waiting to be shown
My writing is an expression of my soul
My inner being, sprouting to leap out
Wanting to let go and release
The inner words often hidden
I started a work, about my times
Some even rhymed
Yet most in a way of telling
What I recalled of my days.
Though the haze of a heart broken daze
The pains and sorrows I felt
The way I looked at the world
At different points in my life
The roads I traveled
The pains and trials
the Successes and the struggle for freedom
From a nightmare of my past
Some was through personal error
Others was to escape a heart breaking expeirence
Yet it was my way of understanding the people I knew
Not to destroy, ruin or deprave just to state a point of view
I see my world through heart felled eyes
I cry from inner pain ready to escape
Letting go of the bitterness to heal
Forgiving and letting go
I noticed others learned from what I do
Hope for the life I did seek
Yet I be true to the inner one inside
STriving to be a part of the outer world
I wish only to be the best one I can be
To care for my pets, friends and loved ones
So I care in my own way
It shows in a individual way as do others
I guess I wish I could show that I am me
Only the person I dare be
Not letting others crush that individual sense of self
Not allowing others to put it on a shelf.
One day I will bring it out in print
I hope while I live as a good person
Yet Only to use as a base in point
Turning bits and pieces in to a pleasant work of fiction
So You wonder if a hidden work exists
That work is in my soul
It came with my being
Which may or may not be a hidden body of work.
by doris Mendlovitz