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About the work of me

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Last post 14/01/2012

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      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