Spinner of Pretty Tales
Oh my Spinner of Pretty tales,
Dream weaver night and day,
Sad, I feel very sad for you....
Writer with nothing to say, and yet so much to tell,
Spending your life in he dark shadows of empty wishes,
Playing God with your mockery,
Taunting, teasing, leading women on,
Several at a time, as your little tiny ego and insecurities
Mock you straight back to your face,
I wonder how do you sleep...
I wonder what you see when you look deeply into the mirror,
I can only imagine it must be a horror show,
You suffered long in life, through those almost brown eyes...
You the witness of much hatred suffered long,
You did not deserve it...any of it..
I am saddened deeply by all the atrocious crimes of hate,
The name calling, the viciousness, the violence towards a proud people,
Raw terror, you experienced, righteous indignation,
the death of innocence stolen from you,
Smacked in the head, over and over,
You suffered long...so long,
I am sorry for all these things that you had on your life journey,
I wish I could kiss the pain away, I wish I could put time in a box and
Send it spiraling back and rewrite history for you...
I would make a new beginning for you,
I would make a new ending...a happier free life...
You should not have had to go through that,
It isn't right...the world is cold and sick...
Time does not heal all wounds it simply scars them,
Oh how you need to be outta your pain,
Oh to be a free man, free from the slavery that binds you in your own prision,
Release, you need release, intense desire calls your name,
You cannot stop, as hard as you wish deeply you could...
Your denial a dungeon of misery, for a temporary moment of pleasure...
And you say, oh that's life, with a heart of stone cold ice,
You turn your cheek and look the other way,
Denial everyone is doing it, what's the big deal
Justify, rationalize, and your blind eyes lead you into more of the same,
You turn on those you claim to love, like Jeckel and Hyde,
You don't even notice or admit the shift in your owns elf....
In your path is a trail of broken hearts, smashed dreams,
Please stop, stop hurting yourself more and more...
Stop. Breathe. Rest, for you know not how precious you are...
You have forgotten who you are is all...
You need to remember...remember WHO...you belong to,
Return baby, repent and return for now the counsellor needs some counselling,
The Holy Ghost shall send you a comfortor in your hour of pain,
One to minister to you, to lead and guide you,
Your battle will be fierce, you are fighting for your freedom...
Many storms shall tire you, scare you, make you shake with fear and dread...
Temptations....so many to fight....so hard to overcome,
You are weary baby, so weary,
Don't toss yourself in the fire of trash, you are worthy of so much more
Do you not tire of the games you play?
Do you not tire of the lies you tell yourself?
It is time now sweet and precious man to step up.
Step up to the plate and be the Man GOD calls you to be,
Restore your dignity, integrity, honor...
Pursue your loyalty, let God help restore your heart of gold....
We all know you have it
Break free baby...you can do this...
I BELIEVE in you...with God all things are possible,
........... I AM ROOTING FOR YOU...
.....I AM IN YOUR CORNER...
I GOT YOUR SIX BABY....
..............much love and fond affection
.......................................... ...................... oct 2013
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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