Monday, October 20, 2008

I am tired.
How did I get here?
You didn't tell me
how it would be.
You didn't ask me.
There was no preparing.
There was no permission.
You just put me
in this situation
with vague promises
of someone being there.
They were no help.
They would not explain.
I could see them
shaking their heads.
I told them
I was usually
more in control.
I apologized.
But still, I was ignored.
They were watching
the affect of what
they fed me.
How would I react?
What would I do?
At any rate, I would
have to pay.
If I chose.
One hundred dollars
for a dirty pillow.
Even though it was
my pillow
I would leave it.
Unpaid for.
It isn't worth it.

2 comments:

TACParent said...

No it isn't! I'm glad you left it behind. That shows great self-worth. Way to go!

Dymphna (4HisChurch) said...

Thanks!! Even in my dreams!

Poems © Gemma W. Wilson