The Girl In The Photograph

Look at the girl in the photograph;
Look at the expression on her face.
Those dim eyes you see aren’t glowing,
They’ve lost life’s sweet embrace.
Who is this girl in the photograph?
Held by her parents dear, imagine
The sorrow they’ve suffered,
they witnessed what they’ve feared.
What did her Mother call her when She was but a babe?
My darling angel, sweetest one, A gift my God has made?
I wish to know this child I see Who lost life’s fight.
I want to comprehend what was she once was like?
A passive calming person,
A nature so divine or was her soul so fiery that it resembled mine?
Did she wish to marry and Wed a man adored
or was her Mind too busy for matters of the heart?
It tis’ too late to know her, for her life This world stole but alas!
This girl In the photography-her name I wish To know!

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Not Mine

With every breath and hope I’ve tried,
ALAS! I find you’re never mine.
What have I done, have I not prayed,
enough for you-my soul to save?
What evil deed or visious sin have I done,
to be forbidden in?
Was I born the devil’s child, the rebel heart,
whose soul is vile?
If not that than why stray,
when I kneel and want to stay?
With you I see I am forgotten, the mortal soul
thous not forgiven.
And my fate in which I’m driven is to
death which you have given;
For you’ve not replied.
With every breath and hope I’ve tried,
ALAS! I find you’re never mine.

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Lassie

Oh let me find a lassie,
one whose pale and fine,
a beauty and a maiden
that I can claim as mine!
Oh let me find a lassie,
who I can so adore…
ne’er let me act upon
a habit she’ll deplore.
Oh let me find a lassie,
one who can be mine.
And if God’s willing..
Let her be just fine!

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Brought Destruction

I am brought to my destruction,
for alas I’ve lost direction, within
my heart I’m torn.
Reflections of times I can’t get over,
torment has forced me here to wander to
that reapers door and as I knock for
death to greet me the reapers blade it never
meets me.
I’ve been saved before!
Heaven’s grace it grant’s no favours,
when life itself I’ve ceased to savour.
And now I’m here again…
lost, alone with no direction
with nowt to own but my destruction.
Tis’ death that’ll be my end;
For this wound is sore.
I’ve been saved before,
but now I’m brought to my
destruction, for alas I’ve lost direction
within my heart is worn.

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Pappa Thine

Pappa Thine
Of might and mirth,
No gold can tally up your worth.
Your tender arms and sweet embrace
surround me with entrancing grace,
and they alone have kept me safe…
from this chaotic, hectic place.
Pappa thine
Of might and mirth,
No gold can tally up your worth.
This love for you I keep within,
alas! I know it tis a sin…
To shy away from such affection,
to ne’er display my great devotion.
You’re the one in which I’m fond,
mine inspiration to carry on.
You’re the last I think at night,
to spark my heart with its delight.
Pappa thine
Of might and mirth,
No gold can tally up your worth.
Of all the hardships that I find,
God has given me one gift that’s mine.



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Demise?

And this is my demise?
The fact that I despise,
every weep and every whim,
every breath I do breathe in.
Is this my demise,
the fate that I reprise?
This life I find is mine, for the
umpteenth time!
Demolish, destruct, destroy,
what I haven’t tried to bid
my goodbyes?
This is my demise?
O alas! so tired am I watching with these eyes
secretly aware of what lies unseen…
forced to recall my sorrows in dreams.

This is my demise?
To be thrown back in time,
To dance to the whistles, the gentle harp strum,
reminded with tears of how far I’ve come.
To channel through the darkness, to awake with terror
reflecting on those passed it is too much to bear!
To remember those I’ll no longer draw near…
gone forever those tender years.
So this is my demise?
The fact that I despise,
every weep and whim and every breath
I do breathe in.

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Filth of Flesh

I guess its here to stay;
I can’t wash this filth away.
I cannot seem to clean nor cleanse the monster of my soul within.
To ease the pain, to rid the hate in which my own opinion makes,
that innocence I couldn’t reach, that perfection I couldn’t keep;
for I the filthy whore, the hun, the fallen angel,
the unchosen one.
Left to die, decay and rot in this unholy mortal spot,
to stand and feel the filth of flesh where all my
horrors here come to rest,
I guess its here to stay?
I cannot wash this filth away!
I cannot seem to cleanse this evil burning deep within.
How can I purge and make this right,
am I to suffer day and night?
To feel the filth of flesh throughout and have my heart
scream in pain without?
Is this the wound I bear,
what have I done to divinity dear;
To face destruction a slow decay as my disgust wastes me away?
I guess its here to stay?
I cannot wash this filth away!

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