Why This Fight

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Why This Fight

Why This Fight

My heart bleeds with anger and frustration.
How did I get my self in this situation.
I've been supportive, patient, calm cool and collected.
Why in the hell do I feel, so damn disrespected.

Did I do something to deserve this fight.
Or is this a wake up call, to stop being polite.
No reason to continue this unhealthy choice.
It's time to listen to that wee small voice.

When it's time for a change, you feel this urge in your gut.
As if someone is behind, giving me that kick in the butt.

Without provocation, without hesitation, I know what I must do.
It's time to listen to that voice and start over new.
So as the winds blow, I feel joy like none other.
Who else could make me feel so good, must have been my mother.

By:
Robert D. Gaither

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Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

rgaither’s Poems (2)

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Why This Fight 0
Black Man I Am 0