Nest Of A Mess Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

The sadness of pretense.
And the expense of denial.
Deposited with more giving interest,
To be freed.
From being reminded,
Of the effects unexpected.
That a turning their backs away,
From taking responsibility for their actions.
Returns to manifest,
A hornets'nest of stinging memories.
To leave.
With no cure or remedy.
As an access of excessive sadness,
Becomes the 'norm' to expect.
And those responsible although deny,
Their lives to live had to have been...
What they wanted to wish.
If not,
Why have they now become stunned.
By a stinging that has stung.
With their eyes wide open to welcome,
All that has come to them to be done.
To still pray to be healed,
Without being involved with the process.
Their mess to invest with interest,
Was not alone by itself...
To begin from the start.
This nest of a mess was their own.
To have left them saddened.
And stunned to have been stung,
By a poison they assumed...
Would be forever sweet.
If left to someone else to guarantee.