much more a painful thought that has been bestowed upon me
let me rest in the pathof mine own enemy
let me be at ease as if it were meant to be like before
let odds be odd, let evens be even as evening our score
much more of a pain than that of being hurt but feel betrayed
let mine own execution be carried out, not let be delayed
this poem comes to mind since it's true as the sky is blue
there's hurt in this and the sorrow for inflicting on you
I have not words to say but I do write hard hands tied
The day I hurt you is the day that my heart and soul died
I'm empty inside and the lonely feeling much more worse
this to me is not a gift, it's my manhood, my curse
Not starved for affection, not dying from lack thereof
Not any of the things mentioned but didn't come from love
it came from a callous being of the devil manipulating minds
Staying true, remaining true surprising to what one finds
I write this with no style but off top of my thought
This is the result of what hurt love and pain has brought
It's been a long time since I sat and feelings spilled on
Love is love indeed but it's cold when the thrill is gone
Stereotyped once, twice and it dares happen again and again
I attest to this, one man can make one woman hate all men
Those that love need to love the ones they love come first
This to me is not a gift, it's my manhood, my curse.....
Edward Orlando Griffin