Unimaginable experiences hit with heart attack suddenness. Months of this way of life have astonished my spirit. Dislike for belligerent actions, has shot holes in my good nature. In yearning for certainty, the real keeps running away from me.
Pounding defeats are making my well of thought's run dry. By what method of life, do you bring the light of hope into the despair of hopelessness. Contentment feels for me many years beyond. For what purpose, do I survive this hurting isolation.
PS: Written in 1977 after a breakup of a 2 year relationship, I spoke with this girl last week after 30 years, she has this poem.
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