Too Many Times

Too many times in the course of history

woman have been told to sit back and be quiet:

the men are talking.

 

Too many times in the course of history

woman have been told their opinions are cute,

but it’s the men’s who count.

 

Too many times in the course of history

woman have been told to stop talking

because the men don’t agree.

 

Too many times in the course of  my history

I have been told my opinions don’t matter,

by men of course,

simply because I see the world through a different lens

and thank God I do

because someone has to look out for someone

other than themselves.

 

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Connection

A connection is defined as

a person, thing, or idea

that is linked to something else.

But yet a connection

is something far deeper;

far more complex than just that.

A connection is something that

you can feel, something you can see.

A connection is undeniable.

When two magnets have

their north and south ends near,

it is hard to deny that there will

soon be a connection

that will be difficult to pull apart

once the two objects meet.

If you hold the two magnets

in separate hands, you will feel

the magnets pulling, longing

to be connected with the other.

I am like a magnet,

the north end perhaps,

waiting for my southern half

to feel the same tugging

at their heart.

It’s bound to happen eventually,

but how close do I have to get?

The Left Behind

It’s much easier to do the leaving

than to be the left behind.

While you are all off to do

all new things

in all new places

with all new people,

I’m left with the same life

I’ve lived for many years before

except it’s different now

because you’re not here

to experience it with me.

Not a lot of exciting things happen to me

that you haven’t heard of lived before

but I get to hear all your exciting

stories from around the country

and realize how stuck I really am.

I’m glad my friends get to go on

such exciting adventures, I am.

But sometimes they don’t realize

that in the wake of their new experiences

I am left behind with no one

to do something as simple as

get a coffee with

because my closest best friend

is at now four hours away

and that makes life very lonely.

 

My King

All they seem to do about me is complain.

It brings my heart such conflict and pain.

They make me feel like I’m not worth anything.

Like I’m a slave and they’re my king.

They make me feel horrible about myself.

They’ve trapped me and I need to free myself.

But they push me down each time I try,

So all I can do is sit down and cry.