Forgiveness

Alone by Edgar Allan Poe From childhood's hour I have not beenAs others were - I have not seenAs others saw - I could not bringMy passions from a common spring -From the same source I have not takenMy sorrow - I could not awakenMy heart to joy at the same tone -And all I lov'd - I lov'd alone -Then - in my childhood - in the dawnOf a most stormy life - was drawnFrom ev'ry depth of good and illThe mystery which binds me still -From the torrent, or the fountain -From the red cliff of the mountain -From the sun that 'round me roll'dIn its autumn tint of gold -From the lightning in the skyAs it pass'd me flying by -From the thunder, and the storm -And the cloud that took the form(When the rest of Heaven was blue)Of a demon in my view ---- Edgar speaks my emotions. But so does Christina Rossetti---- Despised And Rejected Christina Rossetti My sun has set, I dwell In darkness as a dead man out of sight; And none remains, not one, that I should tell To him mine evil plight This bitter night. I will make fast my door That hollow friends may trouble me no more. “Friend, open to Me.”—Who is this that calls? Nay, I am deaf as are my walls: Cease crying, for I will not hear Thy cry of hope or fear. Others were dear, Others forsook me: what art thou indeed That I should heed Thy lamentable need? Hungry should feed, Or stranger lodge thee here? “Friend, My Feet bleed. Open thy door to Me and comfort Me.” I will not open, trouble me no more. Go on thy way footsore, I will not rise and open unto thee. “Then is it nothing to thee? Open, see Who stands to plead with thee. Open, lest I should pass thee by, and thou One day entreat My Face And howl for grace, And I be deaf as thou art now. Open to Me.” Then I cried out upon him: Cease, Leave me in peace: Fear not that I should crave Aught thou mayst have. Leave me in peace, yea trouble me no more, Lest I arise and chase thee from my door. What, shall I not be let Alone, that thou dost vex me yet? But all night long that voice spake urgently: “Open to Me.” Still harping in mine ears: “Rise, let Me in.” Pleading with tears: “Open to Me that I may come to thee.” While the dew dropped, while the dark hours were cold: “My Feet bleed, see My Face, See My Hands bleed that bring thee grace, My Heart doth bleed for thee, Open to Me.” So till the break of day: Then died away That voice, in silence as of sorrow; Then footsteps echoing like a sigh Passed me by, Lingering footsteps slow to pass. On the morrow I saw upon the grass Each footprint marked in blood, and on my door The mark of blood forevermore------ This poem fits me best for how I felt I was treated on TBF. Maybe twere best I rest in death embound. No more for nature to see my face. Cover in dew dropped lace and let no more the world see my shame-filled face. For I only bring out the worst in men or so HE says. So twere better I was dead. No more tears can I shed.