My view has been blinded

Now I have realized

Should I question, or shed a single tear

At a point

It not worth a poem no more…

There are things to be written in private

Shelter the things the I have seen

Let the tears be shed

Sit at the beach in the middle of the night

Singing to the moon

And understand that I’m still alive

Because I learned the hard way to never let it get that far

Because I learned a false reality 

That was not worth a poem

Not today nor the next day....