Begone Fro' Thy Life, Like Thy E'Ee'R Departing Dawn. Poem by Michael Gale

Oh honey-your words hurt me so! ...
They hurt me more than a rampaging stampeding herd of Buffalo.

Those words, they hurt so much...
They stung me worse than your hurtful threatening verbal like touch.

You said you loved me and then you sent me away...
Our love of each other will no longer stay.

Only saddest memories adhere to my mind...
These memories wound my heart and makes my heart's vision of love once well seeing, but now only hurtfully blind.

I can no longer dream of happier times...
This is your fault, these are yours, as to me as well, your long remembered like crimes.

This heart of mine, now only hurts, and sadly only aches as bleeds...
This long lasting war of words, only to me, enables sad memories of pain, and grief, that only surfaces and breeds.

Sorrow by me only stains in my life...
Since you've left me, as your spiteful hating wife.

Those pains of arrows aimed solely at my heart...
Were left by you, to invade my lifely every being and part.

Life is no longer worth living...
Since the time of your hate filled giving.

We no longer can stand the sight of each other...
The thought of us ever being together is our both shared feelings of one most angered type of one druther.

We must now move on apart as two ships no longer passing...
The long hurting aches were far longer always accumilating and amassing.

We are now far from each other's hateful, as detesting from love...
We have now outgrown for another our feelings as like in an outgrown worn out glove.

Those stitches have for a long time began to tear...
Just to show to us and others our unwillingness to love and care.

Others have for a long time have only been able to wonder and stare...
At the once loving and now hate for each other the feelings so not found, and rare.

Death now only beckons to me, as easily more than i dare to breathe...
A final farewell to life do i dare and bequeath.

So long once loved woman of mine...
No longer doth thy, be able, to treat thineself, as ever lowly crawling and hated as swine.

Ye, begone! ...
I command thee, like thy e'ee'r returning and shinning dawn.