John G. Nelson (August 24,1976 / Monrovia, Liberia)
Thereâ€™re groans, after all is said.
Hurts and troubles hole & bruise,
Whence disquieting thoughts sway,
And Imprison my joys and cheers.
Somewhere, hurts pummel bones,
Make me groan, I neglect my peace.
Sometime, I cry my heart out to God,
Questioned, how could this happen.
Grief and sorrow become my eyes,
They make me see sins and woes,
Agonies & groans become my gob
They Curse, make me feel unworthy.
Sometime, I find no taste for life,
My Ailing emotions hurts and burn.
Many time, Silence become my voice,
And agitations become my thoughts.
Comments about this poem (Groans by John G. Nelson )
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