Every day brings struggles

Moments our souls must decide

To rise above or drop below

Moments to stand or hide.

To love or hate, to do or not do

to be me or just pretend,

I pray that I may have the strength

to not falter in the end.

     The voices were burly and rough. The chairs were squeaking across the floor. Plates clattered and water was being poured. The heavy collapsing of men into chairs threatened the floor.

     Agitation twitched in their voices; fury rose in their tones. Adelaide could distinguish six different voices. One was bawling over the rest in a thick voice.

*** This doesn't really go as "poetry" because it's actually lyrics to a song I've written.... Too bad I can't post the music, but I really like the words (of course I do, I wrote it!) and I hope you will too. The story of the song can speak for itself, but it's essentially God speaking to someone that ignores Him, and pushes Him away, and thinks He doesn't care about him. Or her. Enjoy. :)***

How can you say I'll never come back?

Have you not watched me always come back?

Do you think this time I won't come back?

**inspired by my imaginings of what life might be like many years after a dystopia (and by watching Independent Lens and POV, and reading The Other Side of the Island too many times). I apologize in advance for any go-green sentiments or other cheesiness... (cringe)**

Under flowered boughs
teared up with rain
my heart now learns to
break again
No pain so great as
love betrayed
for true love always
forever remains

Now blanket of fog
to cover the stain
to dampen this night
that can't even rain
for numbness of loss
comes to cover the pain
and this heart goes silent
all afraid again

There's a longing for wind to
come stir through the trees
maybe storm and thunder could
set this heart free

 The clock struck midnight

She gave up the fight

And slowly, finally, she died

The people around her all cried

“What now can we do?”

Asked a voice small as dew

And slowly, mournfully they shrugged

They had thought her will would be enough

Who would have thought?

After how hard she fought,

It would all end for naught?

She died.