Array ( [sid] => 172794 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => To Rehannon Gardner [time] => 2012-06-03 05:13:33 [hometext] => [bodytext] => I apologize and you accept in the form of a slap to the face.
One mistake, a sentence misunderstood
Led to a life story of near-deaths and rock-bottoms.
A story you didn't want to hear.

A story told is a request for a story in return. Like a name given as a request for another.

I assumed our ears were mutually wide open.
I thought you still cared for the ones you once loved.
You can't take a story at face value and say
"Sorry for the strife; mine is my business."

You take the fence I try to mend and return it in the form of a blow to the head.
You cut me off like a gangrenous limb. Fast. Clean. Brutal.

You call me a child, obsessed with himself and his world, who shares to a fault
Well, you're an adult, padlocking the gate at the first sign of an incoming tread-mark in your zen garden.

My life is strewn about, unsure, uneasy.
Yours is happy, safe, and planned.

Mine has strife to overcome.
Yours can be demolished by it.

And it was just one story.
Never another to hear.

And so you slam the door
Instead of lend a well-wishing ear.



P.S.
An abhorrent insult isn't justifiable.
It makes you vindictive. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 138 [topic] => 55 [informant] => tehzpoon [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => dedicatedpoems ) Your Poetry Dot Com - To Rehannon Gardner


To Rehannon Gardner
Date: Sunday, 3rd June 2012 @ 05:13:33 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: tehzpoon
I apologize and you accept in the form of a slap to the face.
One mistake, a sentence misunderstood
Led to a life story of near-deaths and rock-bottoms.
A story you didn't want to hear.

A story told is a request for a story in return. Like a name given as a request for another.

I assumed our ears were mutually wide open.
I thought you still cared for the ones you once loved.
You can't take a story at face value and say
"Sorry for the strife; mine is my business."

You take the fence I try to mend and return it in the form of a blow to the head.
You cut me off like a gangrenous limb. Fast. Clean. Brutal.

You call me a child, obsessed with himself and his world, who shares to a fault
Well, you're an adult, padlocking the gate at the first sign of an incoming tread-mark in your zen garden.

My life is strewn about, unsure, uneasy.
Yours is happy, safe, and planned.

Mine has strife to overcome.
Yours can be demolished by it.

And it was just one story.
Never another to hear.

And so you slam the door
Instead of lend a well-wishing ear.



P.S.
An abhorrent insult isn't justifiable.
It makes you vindictive.

This poem is Copyright © tehzpoon


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