Privacy–a tortured poem

I don’t write poetry–ever.  However, today I had about 1.5 hours to kill, all while sitting underneath a giant oak tree, on a college campus, with my laptop unable to access the internet.  I was reflecting on a very significant event in our life–no details necessary.

Privacy

You stole it
I want it back
You took it
You never asked
You haunt me day and night
Get out of my head
Why
Was I a threat
Was I too good
Or were you so bad
So bad, so bad
You think it’s funny
You think it’s a game
You strut around with a grin
I walk around with a frown
Were you jealous of what was mine
Did it make you feel good to steal peace from me
Did it make you feel good to steal pieces of me
I want my peace of mind
I want back pieces of my mind
I need my peace of mind
I need the pieces of my mind
Give it back to me
Privacy
NOW
But you can’t
You took it
It can’t be given back
Ever
Ever
So bad, so bad
You are so bad
Privacy
I can’t get it back
Out of reach, out of mind
Going out of my mind
You are so bad, so very bad

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Joyce
    Oct 19, 2010 @ 07:42:23

    I get it.

    Reply

  2. Suzanne
    Oct 19, 2010 @ 07:16:03

    You are a poet whether you realize it or not, Lisa. Writing is therapeutic, so you should do more of it.

    Reply

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