The Maid a Portrait
I am forgotten, forever hunched
On knees long worn, scrubbing
Washing away, yesterdays memories
Once glorious, delicious
Now but disease, reaching up over
Worn yellow gloves
I am the warrior, without pain
Long days and longer nights
Nursing the wounds of battle
Calices torn and rewoven
Patches sewed, rough upon
Once silky smooth skin
Dried and cracked
Soap and water
I am all that is best in you
Or what you wish to be
Tirelessly cleaning, mopping
Never complaining
Clawing up the mountain
Never falter, freedom
But until then,
I am the person, who daily
Pulls the curtain over the grime
I complete your illusion
To slowly build My own














Comments
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The wise man in the storm prays to God, not for safety from danger, but deliverance from fear
i have no determination and focus to write a poem, unfortunately
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The wise man in the storm prays to God, not for safety from danger, but deliverance from fear
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"Scoffers of the Bible's Prophesies tend to readily embrace other false belief systems, ie: rapture, Nostradamus, evolution, & the History Channel's opinions." "It's very dangerous to call one's self a Christian, and call God's Word a conspiracy theory."
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The wise man in the storm prays to God, not for safety from danger, but deliverance from fear
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