As the stone throwers gather
A certain feeling of forboding gips my heart
It takes hold
Shooting out defensive arrows.
A protective shield
Thicker each time
Reminding me that this is always the conclusion.
The way each new attempt at helping them
Concludes
Someone has to be the battering ram
Someone has to stand and accept without complaint.
But I think I have finally had enough
I'm done, finished and no longer the
Always convenient whipping post.
I AM OUT OF HERE!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poetic imagination, Janice. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks