The words flowed like butter
As they spilled from my mouth:
Confessing, unhindered by my fears.
Regressing, reliving painful years.
Foretelling, everything that you wanted to hear.
Missing, the love we used to feel.
Hoping, desperate to finally heal.
Denying, lying inside: this isn’t real.
Exploding, knowing pain won’t congeal.
I’m sobbing inside, but so cold without,
Face of stone, yet behind the eyes
The pain lurks there.
Mistakenly I called to you,
And your answer was too much to bear.
In too many words
You said you still loved me,
And Daddy, I needed that.
I want to be your pride once more.
My stone mask is cracking,
And the water is dripping,
But I am so broken,
So lost without your hand.

– March 19th, 2004 @ 2:48 AM

Greta Kratz

A very, very personal poem.

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