Don’t you see it, How you slice me? Your words sting, And your actions kill. On my heart, You’re playing dart. Or is it archery, That you practice? Now each scar hurt, A little less every day. While it’s exploding inside, With all the dreams we’d seen. Our happily ever after, Our promises of forever, Oh, how beautiful they were! Now, I silently take all your brunt, As you prove it’s all my fault. Scars in my heart now laugh, As you keep giving me new ones. Yet I keep holding on, To the promises we made. I keep the forever part, Sadly ever after, you gift.
I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...
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