Cloudy Sunday

Today started off well, but then it went straight to hell. Broken cup, coffee slung, shattered all over the floor… words were passed, one was struck, I guess she just didn’t give a what to the outcome, but she felt it had to be done.

Laws was called. No one left with them to be taken in, to be booked, to be shook, but let off the hook, to go to work and make that paper while the other took a walk.

To where , she doesn’t care, don’t know, and don’t wanna know. Peace she needs from false sleeves that she once cared to hold her, but now she no longer cares to be held by those sleeves. No more love to give, still has her life to live, alone apart to mend her heart, to be free from he.

No hate, no love lost, at any cost, never there for me… fake I love you from a fake heart and smile, never close but far behind. Two hearts separated that once had love, two hearts joined together by God above. Never thought it would end this way on this very cloudy Sunday day. ©2020

Clouds, fog, and blue for trees. How beautiful is that?


Things of yesterday carried over into my sleep. I lost my appetite I could not eat. Brokenhearted and sad my tears were all I had. Wanted to go to work, couldn’t go to work because of the injustice that has happened to me; no one knows the pain I feel because of this dirty sea.

The dirty sea in which I work has made me feel like a slave picking cotton in a field that doesn’t belong to me. Working hard from sun up to sundown, no relief to be found, only Sunday Morning Tears.

Feeling used, my hands abused, my feel without a fuse, my arms, and joints grow tired to the bone, cannot wait until I get home. Home to rest, to relax, to sigh and smile while all the while crying out my Sunday Morning Tears.

Never in my life have I ever gone through anything like this, I hope it is the last to be put in the past so I can look back and laugh. Days without my pay the tears won’t go away until what’s mine is placed in my hands.

I can’t pretend to be happy because I am not. I can’t pretend to be thankful that I have this job, that is gone. Times are changing but what about the people?

Jobs are coming but which one is rightfully mine? Mine where I can grow? Mine where I can truly say it is my work family? Mine where I will be happy and want to go? Who knows? I want to belong somewhere I am needed; to make a difference; to shine like a light, to know that I am appreciated.

I want to wake up feeling free with no more Sunday Morning Tears to greet me. ©2020

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