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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Other · #1925579
We all know what a dustpan is used for but something's cannot be swept up.....
DUSTPAN
I was too little to understand,
I was there to lend a helping hand.
Mom was always crying,
Her heart was dying.
Sometimes I think she would keep sweeping,
Just to cover her weeping.
We would clean the floor,
The pain, she would try to ignore.
My step-dad and her would fight,
Both thinking they were right.

I was stuck in the middle,
I was still too little.
I was their interpreter and referee,
They didn't know, that they damaged me.
It wasn't fair to put me in their way,
I should have been out to play.
No longer exchanging "I Love You",
Disgusted by everything that they do.
It was time for one of them to go,
D I V O R C E, was a word I didn't know.

I sat holding the dustpan,
Watching it all fall into the garbage can.
Lives torn apart,
Everyone is left with a broken heart.
I wasn't the only kid,
Everyone paid for what they did.
Their vows were no longer good,
Pain was all they understood.
There was nothing anyone could do,
Exchanging the words, "I Hate You".

We all had a new course,
To settle with DIVORCE.
Seeing everything in the dustpan,
There I was holding the pieces again.
Our lives as a family were through,
Now we had to start new.
Apart is how it was going to be.
We were no longer a family.
It was my turn to cry,
Too young to understand why.

I am no longer young,
I understood the way things were done.
Life's experiences can make you strong,
Sometimes "in-Love" is where some people don't belong.
Now it takes more for me to cry,
Being together, only would have been a lie.
D I V O R C E didn't give them happiness,
Now it was their mess.
I am older now and I understand,
I no longer hold the dustpan.

© Copyright 2013 George Cord (georgecord at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1925579-Dustpan