Enough

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  • Sadness

    Enough

    Tears roll down her eyes
    as the blood spreads on the floor t
    he knife fell to the ground
    she knew it would hurt
    she had done all she could
    she had no more to give
    to her she had
    no real reason to live.
    Her mother left
    when she was nine
    alone she cried
    but pretended to be fine
    she had done all she could
    she had no more to give
    to her she had
    no real reason to live.
    Her teachers never
    understood her
    they just got mad
    and called her father
    she had done all she could
    she had no more to give
    to her she had
    no real reason to live.
    And now as the blood
    spreads on the floor
    she isnt depressed
    anymore
    but to all those she left
    she had so much to give
    and that was enough
    of a reason to live.

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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    ReDmIkEy1129’s Poems (1)

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