Marcy

At times it seems we pin our hopes,
On some distant shining star,
Unable to see the millions more,
Only past events that mar,
Life becomes a revolving door,
That keeps spinning out of control,
And every time we enter in,
There’s one less piece towards whole.
 
 
The days become an endless sea,
Where there’s no reason and no rhyme,
And every effort seems to prove,
That this smile’s no longer mine,
Every event that might occur,
Makes us feel like some fool,
A roller coaster that has no end,
Our fate’s deciding tool.
 
 
Each day we get used to pain,
More is something we grow to expect,
And because of that expectation,
Good things we reject,
All our pleasure is judged by pain,
Our innocence lost by the hour,
As only our hearts have the answers,
Only our hearts have the power.
 
 
Each day that we live and breathe,
It’s important that we feel,
Though pain and pleasure grow together,
What of fantasy and what is real,
The heart inside holds our passions,
But it’s our minds that create the waves,
Inside the heart holds on to love,
And itself the heart then saves.

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Barb Clarke
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