Impulsive Reactions

An Un-named Poem

In a world full thieves, murderers and rapists. Of Crooked congress men and pocketed police officers. A world full of fear and chaos.

In that world it's rare to find something honest. Something real. Although it's been touched and effected my the world that surrounds it, it remains free of the taint.

Something pure.

We all scurry about in a out day to day lives. Making acquaitences and temporary lovers. All searching for something. Then when the search is over and the prize is at hand, we walk away.

Walling up our hearts and putting on masks, making it impossible for people to find the real us.

Making it impossible for them to hurt us.

Making it impossible for them to love us.

And for us to love them.

There is a thin line between joy and sorrow.

Love and pain.

In trying to protect our hearts.

Our souls.

We push away those that mean the most to us. Never letting them know what we feel.

Afraid that the love they present, will turn to agonising pain.

A time of joy and happiness becoming a memory of heartache and hurt.

We are human.

Flawed and fractured.

Imperfect.

We would rather spend an eternity numb to out feelings and hinding from ourselves then risk getting hurt.

We would rather spend eternity dealing with one kind of pain, in the stead of taking a chance.

Opening ourselves up to a person and letting them see us for who we are.

Letting them see all the bad. The flaws, the quirks and the imperfection.

Letting them see all the good. The caring, the inderstanding, and the love.

Rather then taking the greatest risk and reap the greatest reward.

We'd rather deal with the pain we know.


Questions or comments?

Email: cliebenthal@wi.rr.com


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