Displacement....

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Displacement....

torn between two hard stoned spots,  that does not
care to move, both sides pulling at the knots, causing
 me to burn, and does not soothes, willing to rip and
 tear me apart,  while i try to twist and while i turn,  
my bonds i cannot lose, or rid this pain not earned,
 causing this deep sorrowed bruise,so i ask myself,
 with all that's been learned, should i trust my heart,or
 just my mind? unsure of how to take such news, and
all of the surrounding signs, afraid of the paths i
 choose, or more of what i'll find,  so i close my eyes,
as if i am blind,  unable to see through the lies,  or
 read between the lines, i do not dare to stray, not
from the lines i walk, or the things i often say, or the
door ways i daily knock, that keeps me true and bliss,
 its the only way, to get me through my days, but how
can one deal with this mess,   when worlds collide,
over friendship's death,  a traitor that doesn't seek to
hide, that one has been deceived,  or the pained that
wishes to confide,  of the lies and deceit, that one has
received,  causing this sorrow in my chest,  which only
leads me to believe, that with even all that i've
earned, with all of my very best, with all my years and
wisdom,   with all i have learned, and experienced no
less,   I know what is to come,  Due Process will take
it's turn, you shall reap what you sow,   you cannot act
weak and dumb,  because karma never forgets, and
will always know, How one sets, the darkness that
surrounds your corrupted soul, now that all is said and
done,  rage is all at it's toll, and the battle itself has not
been won,  And it will not cease, no,  not for no one,
So what can I do? but be at ease,  and to seek a new,
and bring the peace,  to take the cue, and ignore the
tricky tease, that will attack you, secretly without a
clue, speak of history and repent, apologies to the
displeased,  let go of what may have leaked, and
forget your resentment, take the hit and turn the
cheek, release what was not leased or lent, try to let
your wounds finally mend, and rethink what you truly
seek,   and maybe in the end, we can straighten, what
is  broken and bent, and finally end,

this mental displacement.....

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Poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history.

Plato (BC 427-BC 347) Greek philosopher.

SaintDominico’s Poems (4)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Certainly Not Well 1
already gone 0
Coming Home 1
Displacement.
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0