My Poetry
Again, This
Aois Dana
A Bag of Spring
For A Wedding
Little Brother
Ostara - Mist and Wings
Rainy Day
Some Murdering Secret
Sun and Rain
What Comes of Wings
    I don't remember why I happened to be this miserable. I just was. Parts of it are tied up in the fact that I felt very alone at the time I wrote this poem.

When is it enough?
	Oh Goddess,
When is it enough?

When shall I have paid for the depth of my sins
For the strength of my selfness
When shall I be free?

Never, comes the voice of rolling thunder
You are too proud
You are too sure
You break too many hearts with your careless walk

You will never be free of this loneliness.

No one will ever truly love you.
No one will ever truly care for you.
It will always be a sham, walking in front of you
Laughing at you
For the pride to think you can outlast the damage you have done.

Hearts never heal, the wounds you inflict are eternal.

All those broken dreams behind you
All those adoring gazes dashed
They are your fault, your responsibility
But you ran from them,
	you RAN!
And for that, you can never mend them.

For you will never have their trust again.
© Anne Cross, 1998

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Created: September 21, 1998
Last updated: December 17, 1998