Wrongs Done Through The Years Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Rhythms beating on wrongs that have been done through
the years, tearing apart the fabric of being, leaving
it ripped and tattered like an old rag used to clean up
dirty messes.

Never even thinking to give a smile or thank you, never
sharing goodness, only a horrible disposition, expecting
to be loved in return, as if that could happen after
being treated so badly.

What kind of a miscreant you've turned out to be, and
once upon a time I used to think I was actually in love
with you, boy was I naïve and innocent when it came to
men and love.