Frailty of the Weak

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


The weak me would only reach out for love, expecting a handout with no effort made...

Submitted: December 04, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 04, 2017

A A A

A A A


The weak me would only reach out for love, expecting a handout with no effort made

 

I never would struggle; I never would fight

If love ran away, I’d simply let go

 

It wasn’t worth it, I thought—the going to war; the hurting for something not meant for me

 

If it truly did matter, if it wasn’t a fake, I’d know by the way it felt in my arms

 

The twinge in my heart would feel like a laugh, endlessly bubbling and warming my soul

 

There would be no pain; there would be no tears

There would be no worries; I would have no fears

 

My love would be safe, secure, and serene; my love would be blessed, a beautiful thing

 

The weak me would only reach out and wait, leaving to chance the ripplings of fate

 

Whatever may come, whatever may go; I’d lift not a finger to make a seed grow

 

Hoping and praying, the easy ways out; wishing and dreaming, but clinging to doubt

 

Carelessly searching for pearls on the ground; expecting some fortune to fall in my lap

 

The weak me was lazy, was selfish—a fool

 

The weak me learned quickly that love…can be cruel

 

That love can be ugly, that love can be cold; that love bright when you’re young, can get dull, and get old

 

That love which comes easy—is no love at all

That love always hurts—when you really fall

 

The weak me got weaker, and then stood up strong

 

The weak me learned slowly, that sometimes…I’m wrong

 


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