ladyforsaken
Well-known member
I am posting this beautifully written piece on behalf of a friend on this forum. I hope time will heal your pain and allow you to move on. *hugs*
FEATURED
As I lay here in the cold, my heart stricken and barren.
As cold as a icy winters breeze from the depths of despair.
Wondering what happened to this young mans life, what he could have done differently, as a young soul he had fight, but all that was gone.
Taken by years of torment from foul demons, foul patient demons that have waited in the shadows of the night, like vultures waiting for a meal.
This once truly powerful man, as strong as an ox, did not look so from a glance, tall, quiet, unassuming and in his own way rather slight in build, which in turn hid his true strength, you see, his power came from within.
His mighty will to succeed, to want for a better life, for a better life for his family, to beat the odds and carry the world on his shoulders.
But for all his strength, his mighty strength, he was crushed.
For he had sustained the worst of injury’s, he could cope with walking through the depths of hell which he would gladly have done, even with a cheeky grin, but.
This cut deeper than any knife could, this was more akin to the blow of a warriors kukre knife, which had dislodged his heart and left a void, empty now, he lays. In the silence of the night.
With just his thoughts now for company, alone after his love, the one that he had cherished so dearly, so clearly admired.
Had struck the most horrific of blows, you see this time, just this once he had dared to take a chance on another and has he has always said, “my luck has a sarcastic sense of humor”.
So he had been struck down, not by a mighty warriors legendary knife.
But by hushed words, softly spoken through lips of silk, of the most beautiful of lady’s, her eyes so deep that you could fall a million miles before that awkward moment that you realized that she was smiling back at you, the perfect, genuine smile, as gentile and as bright as a summers day, he could not be angry, although he wishes he could, it was his failure to warm her ice stricken heart.
He couldn’t be sad, because he is to thoughtful to let her see him hurting.
Even after she had proclaimed to have given up on him long ago.
So here I lay, empty and helpless, a lost cause left to time, the might that I once had, that had pulled me up and out of the mighty depression of my childhood, a child who was born a man, a son that was born to support my father, because he too was broken.
Through years of pain and disability.
That might had gone, what was a roaring furnace is nothing now but a dwindling flame.
FEATURED
As I lay here in the cold, my heart stricken and barren.
As cold as a icy winters breeze from the depths of despair.
Wondering what happened to this young mans life, what he could have done differently, as a young soul he had fight, but all that was gone.
Taken by years of torment from foul demons, foul patient demons that have waited in the shadows of the night, like vultures waiting for a meal.
This once truly powerful man, as strong as an ox, did not look so from a glance, tall, quiet, unassuming and in his own way rather slight in build, which in turn hid his true strength, you see, his power came from within.
His mighty will to succeed, to want for a better life, for a better life for his family, to beat the odds and carry the world on his shoulders.
But for all his strength, his mighty strength, he was crushed.
For he had sustained the worst of injury’s, he could cope with walking through the depths of hell which he would gladly have done, even with a cheeky grin, but.
This cut deeper than any knife could, this was more akin to the blow of a warriors kukre knife, which had dislodged his heart and left a void, empty now, he lays. In the silence of the night.
With just his thoughts now for company, alone after his love, the one that he had cherished so dearly, so clearly admired.
Had struck the most horrific of blows, you see this time, just this once he had dared to take a chance on another and has he has always said, “my luck has a sarcastic sense of humor”.
So he had been struck down, not by a mighty warriors legendary knife.
But by hushed words, softly spoken through lips of silk, of the most beautiful of lady’s, her eyes so deep that you could fall a million miles before that awkward moment that you realized that she was smiling back at you, the perfect, genuine smile, as gentile and as bright as a summers day, he could not be angry, although he wishes he could, it was his failure to warm her ice stricken heart.
He couldn’t be sad, because he is to thoughtful to let her see him hurting.
Even after she had proclaimed to have given up on him long ago.
So here I lay, empty and helpless, a lost cause left to time, the might that I once had, that had pulled me up and out of the mighty depression of my childhood, a child who was born a man, a son that was born to support my father, because he too was broken.
Through years of pain and disability.
That might had gone, what was a roaring furnace is nothing now but a dwindling flame.
