By: Aila Doyle
Ignore the sound and fury. Read my lines.
A desire to have a life, one combined.
A sophic man, seeing into my soul.
A woman afraid of losing control.
Foolish girl, frightened and pulling away.
Grasping to undo the damage each day.
Every night, a prayer whispered for you.
Lord, happiness and good health to be true.
Every night, a prayer whispered for me.
Saint Jude, a lost cause, do not let me be.
I have yet to reach the depths of my soul.
But whatever is there, is yours in full.
Men desire it, offering contentment.
But their prison only brings resentment.
You desire nothing, not a word you say.
Broken, I fill pages for you each day.