HOPE
She was named Hope
She only knew how to sell soap
She lived with her uncle who was a Pope
She lost her parents& it was hard for her to cope
She started from scratch
Nothing else was attached
She never stopped her search
All she wanted was a match
On her quest for fame
She finally reached her aim
Giving herself a name
Everything was never the same
She can now dance in the rain;
people thought she was insane
But she knew no one felt her pain
Having realized her troubles where never in vain.
BITTERNESS
Notice how the thorns grow in you fast
as you become bitter while aging;
with the contempt within your heart;
notice how it wrinkles; it’s sore.
Every wound is pure salt,
your face – a dead rose,
your pangs silently explode
into a shower of sable meteors.
But since you are blind!
The thorns grow fast
piercing the soul
it seems they’ll last.
Notice how a day goes by
and you’re still sitting
with the dry, bitter tear in the eye.
Thanks for Your Time