The Angry Hermit… a Poem

new painting, acrylic on canvas by Irene Rowley

one of my paintings

All this time since a baby, I was TOLD I was clumsy.

Now I see I was just pushed…pushed down, then pushed over the cliffs.

I was TOLD I wanted TOO Much attention. Their Attention

As if they OWNED all the Attention …

Now I see I was just a normal person, and a loving and beautiful being who just wanted friends to share my creative journey with.

But some people, whose name will not be written into MY history book… except the fact they were once near me… these people they pushed me to my limits. I never just fell. They called me names. I never just crumbled on my own.

One day, I just went into my cave and lived a hermit

I lived with Biblical Elijah in theory …. loved him, as we look at the world from our caves…

Then I owned a house. It had four bedrooms. Three rooms were empty. Very empty. The ghosts began to walk in them. I was scared of them.

Where was the friend when I needed it most ?

The socalled friend just drank my blood and they called me too skinny.

The friends denied me. At least 3 times.

They denied me, Because it is easier, than being honest.

Or Just Because.

No wonder I have always been a  hermit.

But Now

I am Waking up to reality!

And I am waking up angry, so angry…a doll on the dollhouse patio, reading a miniature book

 

 

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