I lie awake in the early hours of the day,
Afraid of what life has to share with me next.
Eyes closed. Ears Shut.
I hate myself for feeding this fear.
Afraid of what life has to share with me next,
I flinch at every sound.
I hate myself for feeding this fear.
Yet the past robbery of my joy is all too recent
I flinch at every sound,
Because memories are like old wounds
Yet the past robbery of my joy is all too recent
Still, I’m fighting to recover what’s left of my faith
Because memories are like old wounds
The scars will eventually show that…
Still, I’m fighting to recover what’s left of my faith.
When life gives me its portion I’ll give it my measure of hope and faith.
Sidenote: this poem stems from my daily struggle to cope with the transition of my sweet grandmother. Thank you for taking the time to read my work.
The Daily Post Word Prompt: Portion
(c) Lyrical Tempest
The Purge 
You struck the right emotional chords ! Have hope and stay strong. Happy blogging 😀
Aww bless you. It gets better. I wrote something about this ( re: my dad and brother) in Trace of a Kiss. It gets better……and sweeter 🙂