Getting back into the flow of writing, mostly with wordplay and poems. I'm a creative soul, from childhood to middle age, and my joy is to produce new things the world has never seen before. I'm an educator from the USA working as a college professor of lit and music. I'm learning to love myself little by little.
I'm edging closer daily to despair
From which, I doubt I ever can escape.
I brood on all the times I wasn't there
When he was suffering cruelty and rape
I'd never known, 'til later, how unfair
His lover's treatment was--how mean, how vicious.
My friend would cry, "My life's beyond repair!"
But so did I; I never felt suspicious.
In time, I gathered there was something worse
Than inner voices poisoning his mood;
That somebody abused him, like a curse,
Gaslighting him with glee--A demon lewd.
He'd thought it was his lover, but instead,
It was my friend's tormentor in his head.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
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