There is a part of me, that would be,
Such a great potential for happiness.
It would pull itself away if allowed,
The times come and go, when it could be proud.
When there is a part that is good,
It removes itself out of fear….
Once it has regrouped, the part attacks
The good to remove it from view.
Why, am I so pushed, torn and pulled?
When will this confusion all end?
The worst I fear is yet to be.
Carrying another part away from me.
All too soon, there will not be,
Much left of this part of me.
How is it we try and fail,
To gather parts that will prevail?
There is a need to always be,
A special part of you and me…………