Tue, 09/29/2015 - 21:04 -- heberle

Love is strange

It can be misunderstood

Sometimes it is a result of fear

A drop of compassion,

A dash of respect,

A pinch of naivety,

And maybe some caring nature 

There are many types of love,

But this- oh this is the most perilous

Defending the cunning, 

Ignoring the danger

Resisting the truth

Straying away from the world

To please that one you love oh so much

They may love you back

But don't be fooled, 

They know what you lack


They sense your barriers

They know your respect

And it against you

And your wishes to grow

You may grow too old- too smart for them

But only hardness will show


They need to manipulate

A daughter is a perfect example,

The loving father molds the daughter in a stringy pupper,

A seemingly joyful pupper

Who learns to obey and respect

Nothing needs to be said,

It is simply done.

But those strings get cut

The daughter won't know where to run,

Except in an endless circle of remorse


You must be a compassionate spirit nonetheless,

Vulberable to ain,

Resistant to pushing boundaries

All because you gave your love to someone else's play

This poem is about: 
My family


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