Damita Ro: Poem

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I awake another day, after praying to keep troubles at bay.
I wake up undone; the pressures of a woman have begun.
No where I’d rather be but in my bed, where I lay down my head
No words around me said.
I dive in every night under my covers from all my failures I try to recover
My bed is a place I rush to dream,
Allows me to escape reality from all its brutality.
It’s where I hide with my sorrows,
where it promises me another tomorrow.

No one to laugh with, never once shared my bed.
Souls only connect for the wed.
I rest my head on my pillow
Held together like a weeping willow.
Sometimes I imagine someone staring at me sleep
hoping someone can be there beside me,
and love me so deep.
I can picture a future of Sunday mornings,
With a husband by my side, tending to kids as they cry,
As they run to us with arms opened wide.

I fall asleep with a river of thoughts, replaying all the moments in my head,
I lay hanging there by a thread.
Sometimes I am kept awake at night,
sleepless in bed, no shadows, and no light.

All I have are my dreams, all I am are my failures
It’s just me and my fears, as I swim through the tears
I lie here in all my vulnerability.
I am not too big, not too ugly, not too pretty for my bed,
my hair is messy, my face can be red, my glasses on as I watch Friends
my bed is the only place I ever fled.
On my knees as I pray, I am not too proud to beg.

Some of us are in bed of lies, where all secrets hide.
Others are in a sea of love; some with broken hearts lie down to cry.
Most of them are where new souls begin to form
and some of them are for the alone.
Yet we all have things and people we wish for.
And most of us awake to someone who makes us blue
falling asleep not believing our reality is true.
But we get through it, through and through
Beds are like the sun and the moon,
its there for you till the end,
another day fades away, and another day you get to rise again
and it all starts and ends with my bed…

II A little untitled poem I wrote a little while ago, and a picture I took of myself one of all my lazy Sunday mornings II

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