She Is Not My Lady

But life has not been so kind

Reality not caring to mind

Only tearing and ripping still

Keeping my eyes from taking their fill

Even as the ground comes closer

Never knowing yet knowing it’s over


Can’t remember the last time

Luck favored me with a dime

Or gave me only a cent

Verifying that for this, I am not meant

Especially as the one I love

Rebukes me now from up above


Why do I read stories that make me cry and then write poetry that does the same thing?


About martha0stout

I like to read and write and hang out with my family and friends. I currently live on a farm and all that such a living entails.
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