Posted: July 27, 2010 in Poetry

by Emanuel Shajhef Quinton

You stain me with your judgments.
You hurt me without care.
You say its because of what I’ve done,
but you were never there.
You tell me I am evil, and I should never
catch a break, what kind of person says
such a thing, to wish another such a fate.
My tears still fall for one and all,
for each person who slaps me down.
I’m sorry that God did not make me
perfect, I have nothing to give but my
heart, and this forever painted frown.

Copyright © 2009

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