Not From My Dried Eyes To Cry

I understand.
To not have been understood.
Even with attempts made to explain.
No one would better than I could.
And I knew I shouldn't,
Continue making those attempts.

I have also been the butt end of jokes.
To have made others provoked into laughter.
With a doing as if my feelings felt,
Were less than those that others have.
So does that mean what I feel to know it real,
Is better kept to myself to know it felt?

More than twice I have left things treasured.
Things I collected and then had possessed.
To leave behind in distant places,
With them kept by someone else.
Just to be closer to those I loved.
To hear rumors spread how selfish I was.

('Selfish. I'm here with nothing 'and' called selfish? ')

And today I no longer contemplate,
Awaiting for those to awaken with a consciousness...
To realize their conflicts and dilemmas,
Reflect misdeeds they themselves create.
With that to understand what is done to others,
Returns to the doer who initiates their commands.

('Selfish. I'm here with nothing 'and' called selfish?
God please keep me from reacting to their ignorance? ')

Should I ignore the sounds of loud weeping,
Coming from those who once provoked their jokes?
Or should I express my understanding,
With an empathy towards them to sincerely show?
Should I ignore their feelings felt to express to feel,
Are not from my dried eyes to cry anymore.
And accept my blessings to keep that understood.

('Yes. Be selfish. Be blessed and keep that felt.
To understand and accept with no need to explain.')

by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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