You are hiding your feelings,
of all of your dealings,
the pain and the sorrow,
detain your tomorrow,
you live in the past,
and you can't make it last,
you'll soon have to deal,
or have your last meal,
so come out of your shell,
and I'll make you well,
I promise relief,
If you will believe,
so please, seize,
stop hiding,
before I stop fighting.
Copyright © Miri A.
Santa Nella, CA 7/15/2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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