Patterns, Cycles...
When the thoughts come Cold and hard, I cannot hold them in. They burst upon me-- A little girl again.
From an early age I knew betrayal-- Definitive understatement that it is. Patterns form my existence And I hear his heavy breathing even now, So close...
I hate this repetition, This lying awake Never knowing when he will come again. This circle will never end. The Father, the Son, and now the Holy Ghost.
I hate you all, I hate that I cannot turn away, That I cannot protect myself from this Subtle, yet appalling, cycle. I hate them
And I love them... Which is the deeper sin?
Dena L Moore May 12, 2002
|
Poetry of Love, Loss, and the Occult |
Patterns, Cycles...
When the thoughts come Cold and hard, I cannot hold them in. They burst upon me-- A little girl again.
From an early age I knew betrayal-- Definitive understatement that it is. Patterns form my existence And I hear his heavy breathing even now, So close...
I hate this repetition, This lying awake Never knowing when he will come again. This circle will never end. The Father, the Son, and now the Holy Ghost.
I hate you all, I hate that I cannot turn away, That I cannot protect myself from this Subtle, yet appalling, cycle. I hate them
And I love them... Which is the deeper sin?
Dena L Moore May 12, 2002
|

The front page poem changes every 2-3 weeks.
All work on this website are original poems by Dena L. Moore and are copyrighted. If you would like to post any of my work on your site or in print, please contact me or my publisher for permission. The poetry on this site is only a very small sampling of my work.
This page was last updated on July 6, 2003
Copyright February 2001
Dena's Poetry: Poetry of Love, Loss, and the Occult is Written, Designed, and Maintained by Dena L. Moore |
|