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What Is Left



Why do you deny my love,
acting like a soul possessed?
And why resurrect old pains,
time had long ago repressed?

You can't relate to pity,
for bullies despise the weak.
And it feels good exploiting
those who turn the other cheek.

I see someone that's afraid,
using drugs to numb the pain.
A loser in the game of life,
treating winners with disdain.

Shame has no meaning in hell,
for all that you do feels right.
Yet deep inside what is left,
when part of you dies each night?

You stand ready to attack,
striking out day after day.
And uttering threats of death,
you push those that care away.
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Submitted on October 09, 2013

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Emile Pinet Claim this poet

I was born in a small town, (Bathurst) New Brunswick, Canada,. The third eldest of thirteen children, ten girls and three boys. I’m the product of a semi-dysfunctional family, brought up by a controlling, physically abusive father, verses a loving mother. Many of my poems reflect the uniqueness and special circumstances of my upbringing. more…

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    "What Is Left" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 25 Jan. 2022. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/90661/what-is-left>.

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