Album Of Life Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Following patterns of childhood is painful, difficult, hopes
disintegrated long ago, when young.

Nothing matters to the brain of an adult, because the child
in them buries it before it can become recognizable, before
it can gain any power over them.

Funeral music playing always in the background, aware of a
small child's misgivings and mistrust.

An adult mind, knowing what pain has done in the past and
continues to do, suffering in silence, never telling a soul,
afraid to trust and rightly so.

Betrayed, always on a very personal space and bodily mind,
hiding away from the world through inner gifts and talents.

Never showing to the world what has kept them going since
birth, not caring to share with anyone.

Knowing in the back of their mind that betrayal would always
beat them to the line of friendship, falling from their
fragile grasp.

Pictures of a not so perfect world, dropped from the album
of life past, present and to come.