Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Poem of the Day - The Woes of the Author

The Woes of the Author by A.S. Washington

Their eyes do not see the work of your hands,
Knowing only results, of the journey's end,
Your wounds they do not believe,
Because they have not the marks of the surgeon mend,
Wondrous is the call of your presence,
As long as you are among the sheep,
Ill words come from friends,
When the top of the ivory tower, is under your feet,
They know not that you suffer,
Bathing in misery and fear,
You have not a bucket,
Sufficient for all of your tears
Trapped in your heart,
Is the anger which would drive you to sanity,
The force of your fists,
Would make their face, the ending of a calamity,
If they could know you, as well as I,
They'd see you in the mirror,
The imagine would be pristine,
And only God could make thee clearer. 

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