Sworn-Exile

Throughout our lives We forever strive For that special someone Who can be nothing but perfect. Some never find them And some do. I am glad that I have found someone So early on in life. She makes me happy, She makes me smile, She makes me feel special, She makes me feel loved. Her eyes so deep and dark, Her touch so soft and sweet, Her laugh so cheery and pleasant, Her heart so full of love. I adore her, I praise her, I have her, I love her.

Walking through those cleansed white halls Smelling the pain and suffering of those people, I climb those endless set of steps Just to visit her... the one so dear. Side by side my mother and I, We drag our way through the ill fate And straight to the end we go, Only to see her pale face on those pillows. Taking a seat by her side; She greets us with a pleased smile, Happy to see her family - Daughter and Grandson, Taking comfort in our presence. The bruises and the redness of her aged skin Only reflects how she is inside. This mighty woman who saw many a hardship Is now laid up in hospital once more. Giving her a kiss goodbye

The most perfect of weekends Going along without a hitch or an ill word, To return home only to find that the blade of hinderance Has been unsheathed and thrust forward. To watch a face that braves the trials of life, To hear the diversion from the pain Only hides the anguish and devastation behind the mask; The mask that is the surface. What will happen with this blade's wounds? Who can know what the future life of this soul will be like? She travels on amongst the wilderness of life Holding on to something that only she knows how precious.

The bitter cold bites upon my hands, Ever degrading the pulse within my wrists It acts heavily over the timely sands Creating nothing in front of my eyes but a set of mists. Like confronting Death this cold does feel And saying to The Reaper that I will not go, Because to me none of this is real My soul is in need to grow. Within the confines of this flesh i feel the pain And the torment of my mortal life, However do people remain so sane? When all that life deals is the misery and strife? Death stalks me to no end And beckons me to betray my loyalties and receed, But my soul is in need of this mend Due to the fact that we all