In dark and isolated places
Where suffering is endured,
Tears of sorrow are not seen,
And whimpers of agony are not heard.
Tag: Life
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At 2 A.M. she does her dance,
Her eyes of sorrow hidden by euphoric trance.
She does her best to entertain the crowd;
Wide eyes they glare, and the shouts are loud;
Her fluid movements cause money to rain,
For the dirty bills are her source of gain.
It’s behind the eyes, oh those weary eyes,
Where her soul seeks warmth, and her spirit cries.
Her passion is singing; her passion is life;
Still she walks in heels on a winter’s night,
To make a living the only way she has known,
For the long dark road has become her home.
She is mentally afflicted, because she is a victim
Of abuse in her childhood, when pain was inflicted.
Her tears are the tears of an angel …
She longs for understanding; she longs for light;
For a heavenly shelter from the cold of night.
As she strips her clothes, pain strips her soul;
Only the familiar eyes of her sorrow would know.
She is an angel. A beautiful woman.
At 2 A.M. she is still a woman. -
Misery has found me and the dark place relentlessly calls for me. I can hear the weeping of the sorrowful; the unceasing bellowing of the tormented is unbearable, and renders me despondent. The woman in the black veil stares at me and sees my distress. With a haunting wail she disappears into the darkness; the train of her black dress follows behind her. My soul burns with anguish within me. I have called to the heavens with tears but have heard no answer; my only comfort is the memory of my mother. The desolation wears on me, and the abyss pulls me closer to the ground. I have stood strong for many seasons, but the years have quietly stolen my youthful strength. The putrid smoke of the abyss is offensive and it scorches my eyes. I stumble around in darkness wanting to cry out but I will not give the dark place any more of my tears. Within me, hope wanes and despair has taken up residence. Only the fire of anger keeps my feet steady on the long and dark road. Sorrow increases day by day, and the poisonous fruit of trepidation is eaten by many. Is there any rest for the weary? So many tired and ghostly faces pass by me as I look into their eyes intently. Suffering has been our portion, and unrelenting pain our heavy cross to bear. Who will witness our plight and record the days of our lives? Maybe the heavens will open, and finally hear the agony in my cries.
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Although our passion
Has faded away,
And sorrow wounds
Me night and day,
I will still say,
I love you. -
See me;
See me for who I am.
In my passion, see my desire;
In my weeping, see my pain:
In my warmth, see my love;
In my agony, see my affliction. -
The darkness drains me and leaves me listless. I stumble around in dizziness and shortness of breath. My dark feathered friend the crow, tilts her head, and looks at me through keen eyes with a certain peculiarity. I wonder if she can sense my pain or see my despair. I was in love once, but my beloved abandoned me once I arrived here. I was asleep and was awakened with fright; I reached for her but she wasn’t there. She left a sordid note stating:
My love,
I love you, but I can no longer stay here. I care for you, but I can’t deal with the darkness and fear. I’ve tried to understand you, but it’s all just too much for me to bear. Here’s your ring back, and you can cancel the wedding arrangements we made for next year.
Sincerely,
AlynaI could feel the darkness taunting me and laughing at my sorrow and tears. The darkness wants to take from me, leave me with nothing and strip me bare. She would leave me when I needed her most, in the middle of the night, under the pretense of care.
It was that night, that the darkness embraced me tightly, and whispered foully in my ear: They will all leave you, but I will always be here.
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Cold fall winds blow
A woman looks out of a window
The eyes that stare are the eyes of sorrow
This is not the mask of joy she wears
For these eyes are the eyes that people don’t know
In silence and loneliness she suffers
And she will wear her mask again tomorrow
To perform her daily and arduous show
But if one could get past the mask
To see her pain and daunting task
And offer a comforting place for tears to flow
Then the depths of her they would know – -
In the face of fear let us hold onto our light;
In our darkest hours we will prevail against the horrors of the night.
Though we are sorrowful, we are spirited;
Though we may fear, our hearts will not fail;
Though our crosses are heavy, we will not falter;
Though we shed tears, our hearts are filled with love;
Though we are misunderstood, we will persevere;
Though we may be unloved, we will find the strength to love ourselves.Neither fear, nor sorrow, nor doubt, nor tribulation, nor fire, or deep waters stop our resolve.
Let our names be written in gold and read aloud in heaven’s roll.
Let the world stare upon us in jealousy and wonder.
Let us, the sorrowful, meet at that peaceful river and cry in each other’s arms.
Let us all link and hold each other in love as we silently turn our heads to the sky and look at the starlight. -
Tears of joy fall from her eyes
I hold her in warmth
Emotions well up inside
A new life has been born
A precious gift to our lives
I caress your face
And together we cry.
Intimate Compositions 