Each day I stand Before self pity and Then go back to bed. I dwell in silence As I play their words Again and again in my head. Each day I rise to a Table of mourning, To which I sit to eat. My body is a fleshly Prison in which My soul retreats. Somewhere in this body, If you would bother to search, You’ll find a hurting person Who longs for a human touch. When I sit to eat my food, I actually digest my hurt. I rarely ever see God's sun Because I wallow in my dirt. The one thing that My soul is seeking And yet it cannot find, A heart which sees Beyond my fat to Explore the depths Of my mind. My help will not come from Self pity, nor from the food I eat. My help will come from a friend Who will not let me accept defeat. Somewhere in this body, There is a person here. I can be discovered In the volume of one tear. Author: Joyce Rogers CLICK HERE for details on my upcoming book. View My Guestbook Sign My Guestbook Please Send This Poem As A FREE Gift Of Thought To Someone Special CLICK HERE. Please add a personal thought of your own if you'd like. They will receive this virtual poetic gift, directly from you...in less than 60 seconds. Home | Enjoy More Poetry |About Me The Poetic Insight Forum | Web Rings | Favorite Links Please Bookmark Now and Visit Anytime You Wish! If you wish to let me know you enjoyed the poetry, please sign the guest book...thank you. Thanks for taking the time to visit me. Please bookmark this site and return whenever you wish.