Each had a tale to tell,
Each had a trophy to display,
Each had a story,
So they sat and began to narrate.

I came to them with gift and song,
I came to them in time of love,
I came to them even when you did,
I gave and I gave,
Still, I wanted to give more,
But they seemed to want you more,
I thought I was light,
And you, darkness,
I truly believed I was,
What you could never be, and,
For that,
I held my head high,
I was wrong.

I came to them with insult and tears,
I came to them in time of hate,
I came to them in time of hate,
I came to them even when you did,
I took and I took,
I wanted to take more,
Yet they seemed to want me more,
I knew I was darkness,
And you, light,
I knew I was,
What you could never be, and,
For that,
I held my head high,
I was wrong.

Death met life and they wept,
Each had made a foe,
Each had lost a friend,
Each was a fugitive,
So they sat and began to tell.
I was summer,
You were winter,
We were a cycle,
We were seasons,
I the beginning,
You the end,
We were proper,
I would curtsy,
You would shove,
It was our system,
But it wasn’t theirs,
They wanted us improper,
They wanted us undone,
They had their system.

Now we sit and we watch,
For we have become life,
And they,
They are death.
Posted by Just Taidi at 6:46 AM 0 comments
Labels: death life man seasons killing murder abortion rape
Chronic Giver

They told me to give,
That I sure would receive,
And I gave,
I gave my shirt,
Gave my coat too,
Right cheek,
Left cheek too,
My only slightly tortured soul,
My body to be burnt too,
I gave,
Oh I gave.

They said,
Tenfold, a hundredfold,
It had to be believable though,
So there was no mention of,
Thousand and millionfold,
Even they knew that,
That would be a bit of a stretch,
Still I gave,
My feet’s due,
Palms’ too,
Thigh’s warmth,
Breasts’ too,
My only slightly bold voice,
My pierced eyes too,
I gave,
Oh I gave.

But they wanted more,
They wanted so much more,
It’s better to give,
Than to receive,
They said,
So I gave my laughter,
Kept my tears though,
Gave my skin,
Not my wounds though,
Gave my heart,
Not it’s pain though,
They had said to give,
But only that which is good,
And I gave,
Oh I gave.

Still, they wanted more,
So, I gave,
I gave myself,
The achievements,
The accolades,
The trophies and the medals,
But no, not the struggles,
They didn’t want those,
Those were mine to hold,
They said to give only the best of my harvest,
And I gave,
Yes I gave.

So now,
There’s a pen and paper,
Where I used to be,
A story where I stood,
A hope that they shall remember,
Remember to say;
She who gave, received,
Because those who said, gave.

And even as a story,
Even as pen and paper,
I shall give,
I still shall give.