Selina Munsey

In Ourselves We Cannot Find

ive heard it all
so dont even try
ive heard every twisted
truth and lie

its not my fault
theres not me to blame
u say u didnt say
but i know what u claim

of what you give
in your unruley speech
of what you take
when you know tis out of reach

its within a sleepless dream
when you are truely fair
its within a deadly hope
when you truely care

why must it be as it is
and how we are
why cant it be simple
and never too far

it makes my heart ache
of once forgotten pain
but was again remembered
when it thundered and rain

it is for what cannot be
for which it yearns
it is for which will never be
for why it burns

a desire that will stay hidden
a memory that is cursed
a thing that is ever so wanted
but cannot be forced

a power of feeling
that refuses to hide
a stranger to which its healing
mending the lies hes carved inside

the object of regret
but yet for it we crave
the object of self destruct
is why ourseleves we cannot save

its nothing but puity
and still we stray
a dream with no waking to reality
no difference between night and day

a dreamer wanting life
a stalker following there obsession
a slave seaching for freedonm
and a mere person stalking there dream freely with passion

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, July 6, 2008

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Rudyard Kipling


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