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At the beginning Serving a friend With a helping hand Given time as priority Countlessly listening An hour of their confession One day They decide to Turn away with an evil direction Giving false doubts In your heart Their functions are not healed A blinding desire As calamity takes control After their wrongdoing Pray for them Forgive and show love One day They will comeback |
Distance. This is your second composition that I have read, and the feeling of your distance is overwhelming. You don't dig deep into your ideas enough to make them bloom on the page. Again, random lines. They don't show me anything, make me feel anything. All I know is the basics: you had a friend(s) that you helped and served and listened to, and then they took a different direction and became ungrateful, leaving you to feel like [censored]. You forgive them in the end and are confident that they will come back. Bland. Empty. I'm hoping for more from you. Please. **Please, read my poem "With a Failure's Hands." I understand your plight with friends such as the one(s) of whom you speak. | Posted on 2009-08-26 00:00:00 | by mojymo | [ Reply to This ] | this poem is just so real.. stark reality put into great verses. it reminds of my 'friends', if they were friends that is.. but then, i have a difference of opinion- they wont come back, unlike your last line. ofcourse ill keep waiting, but i know they wont be back. | a brilliant poem.. | Posted on 2009-05-01 00:00:00 | by rsujith | [ Reply to This ] | |