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For to be...


It's time my dear,

oh for you to let go,

of the weighted worries,

unto which you've betrothed. 

Painful, but I'll say this to you.

 

The heathens I fear,

force you to release your hold.

To break and batter,

all you've built on your own.

But you don't see this do you?

 

For your recourse,

I've no solutions to bare,

But my arms around you,

my fingers combing your hair

No, I won't choose to lose you.

 

Your demons you fight

behind  muted oak doors,

where you can't hear my plea,

to help you settle the score.

Wouldn't believe them would you?

 

For long I await,

your return to shore.

After your storm has passed,

know,  here I'll be moored.

Afore, after, always yours.

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You Only Write Once Scholarship Slam - CLOSED

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Comments (1)

Wetterhound
<p>"Muted oak doors" was intense. It's 3 in the morning and I'm reading all these scholarship slam poems and I'm loving this so much. Write on.</p>

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