(Title Undecided)

I kick, I yell, I shout, I scream,
O God, why isn’t this just an ugly dream?
My future drowns in fire,
My life burns in a pyre,
To my rescue comes no fairy nor elf,
What do I do when I’m angry at myself?

I know I can, yet I won’t.
The world is amazed why I won’t.
(Did God invest in me, this talent for nought?
What good is a war, a war never fought?)
Yet to my rescue comes no fairy nor elf,
What do I do when I’m angry at myself?

Am I waiting for when it’s too late?
Isn’t a glorious future, good enough bait?
Opportunity is knocking, too busy am I.
Life’s zipping past, but here waiting am I.
But to my rescue comes no fairy nor elf,
What do I do when I’m angry at myself?

Wake up, girl, that was indeed a dream:
What you thought poison, is actually cream.
Only sweet nectar, there’s no evil brew.
Wake up now to what is true.
A visitor is knocking, get up Miss Poetess:
“I’m here to be yours, my name Success.”

Finally I’ve reached, and well in time,
And spared some to sit and rhyme!
Neither words nor music express my elation,
Far gone by are the days of desperation.
My saviour not a fairy, nor an elf,
But Presence of the Lord, and belief in self!




(March 2008)