Sand in My Eyes

Now we were not always like a ring fitting so comfortably on anothers finger

or a sun shining through clouds on a mild spring day

there were echoes of your pain inflicted onto me

my intentions pure and like honey

you stole my honey and you drained my will

just so you could take a big paper payment 'bill'

money always meant more to you

and I was feeling

because what I felt was real, even if you didn't

seeing that you are a deliberate choke

imagining that you had the killing joke

but my heart had to overcome your deceit

know this you sugar coated thorn bush

even with the threat of death, I would not have succumbed to this

even with God not answering my calls, I would not have ever fallen

you know the damage and you left it unfinished

apologies that flew like pigs

a hand that I knew, hid in the mist

I'm not crying, I have sand in my eyes.


Please consider reading ‘Your Eyes’ published in 2020.


If by Rudyard Kipling (really inspirational)

If you can keep your head when all about you   

    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

    But make allowance for their doubting too;   

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   

    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

    And treat those two impostors just the same;   

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

    And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   

    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

    If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   

    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!