Most Folk

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just different

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Some wounds never heal. Vandalized left open for interpretation. For this it takes serious strength, To end reoccurring enactment. Yet he demands. Almost begging at the waist. She offers him shelter. He continues to selfishly take. She wears woven sweaters. To hide the deep bruise. As a grown man he lashes out. Over and over like a child. She eventually gives, he gets his way almost until nothing is left. His relentless cry, not even a child to call their own. She understands that this isn't the way. Yet she grows tired, anxiously waiting. With each bruise she recognizes the difference. That not all is what it seems. physically she rejects reality. Emotionally she cries out. She suppresses all to keep positive attitude. This bruise she hides runs deep. Unable to heal, known relief of vain. To invest in commitment requires a great deal of time. Time she's given plenty of. She one day dreams that one day she will wake up and all will be a dream. To immediately wake up, Finding the woman she use to be. Most folk call her crazy. The reason she stays. She takes another pill. Soon, All will be a dream