Sadness is an Art


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Pounding in my head, suitcase, 

packed full of memories, shame

they’re all bad, war in my mind,

brain in dispute with my heart.

Careful, I’ve turned sadness

into my art, a parable I share

with the naive world, enough 

can be enough, love doesn’t save.

It’s hard to fathom how I could

turn and walk away, yet I did.

Tried to mark me as yours,

whistling the same old birdsong.

You couldn’t understand the 

crack running through my soul.

Like eating forbidden fruit, I

can see you were no good.

Filled with knowledge I never 

wanted, I’ll continue on my own.

No goodbyes, or happy endings.

The movie just stops………..

abruptly.

Donetta Sifford 4-10-2015

Written for:  Sunday’s WhirlgigSunday's Whirligig logo

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