What is that destructive force that poets so often cling to?
Why does a love lost have to destroy future hope?
So simple, that short step towards the light.
But how much easier is the return to the dark
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When pen meets paper the poet seeks to portray emotion.
Up bubbles life’s most painful magma.
Spewing forth regret, revenge, loss and sorrow.
Memory, like an ash cloud obscuring positive thought.
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The mind convulses inside the cauldron of despair
And despair, in itself becomes the comfort state.
The head-in hands, bowed individual resigned.
Crawling and cowering and gloating on opportunities lost.
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Stand-up that person.
Throw back your head.
Reach, hands held high, way up into the sky and shout;
"I’m worth more than my past".
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Change and action are the key to happiness.
Not habit and reflex reaction.
To live you must breathe and sing.
Celebrate your individuality.
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Don’t use fine words alone but act upon them.
Born of hope and determination,
You have it in you to be great.
Find and exploit that greatness.
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Forgive, forget and heal.
Starting within yourself make waves.
Sweeping outwards, a sunami of love.
Expanding your love to include your enemies.
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There’s no limit to your share of love.
If you need to share it, you will find more.
Only you can limit its awesome spread.
But, why would you when you can change lives?
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Never look back with sadness.
Use your experiences to help others.
When you project love you will attract it,
And no longer feel the need to mourn love lost.