Feel

Do you feel bad,
Knowing that I’m going through hell?
Why? Have you ever stopped to ask yourself that?
Do you only pity me,
As one would pity a wounded animal,
For the pain that it goes through,
Undeserving?
I do not want your pity.
All I ever asked was for care,
But I have never received that,
And I do not plan to, now that you have gone.
Do not feel bad for me-
That has no value- no worth.

I am in hell,
Burning in darkness,
Alone.
You, in one way, have put me here.
Do you feel guilty?
Guilty, perhaps, because you might have prevented it,
But you chose rather your own path,
Away from me?

I am cold,
Desolate.
I, in a way, have done this to myself.
It is my punishment for falling in love,
When I knew better.
(Love should be kept, close,
Never given away-
In the giving, you lose yourself;
Grave danger lurks in love.)
Do you wish you could remove my pain?
Do not wish that;
For you to remove my pain involves more than you can understand,
Or could ever give-
And I would not accept your help,
Were you to offer it:
For you to remove my pain requires that you deny yourself,
Which I will not have.

I am dying, slowly, apart from all that I ever held dear.
You may shrug your shoulders, saying,
“That is the way of love.”
Yes, that is the way of love,
But it is also the way of hate,
And in a way, you have brought that, too, in denying me myself.

by James Grengs

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.