Canonized By The Misfits, The Outcasts, The Artists

She was the kind of sad that took over a life time,
with a sweet disposition, it was impossible to know
how eternally lonely her impenetrable heart really was.

A magnet to lost souls, they could see what she could not:
wings of bravery given to her by angels that saw
the devastating tragedies of her former life.

Pure and patient, she was a curious observer of pain
acknowledged injustice, feeling it, as if it was her own.
Canonized by the misfits, the outcasts, the artists –

She only exists to those that really need her,
the ones so alone they climb to the bottom of the rock
and wait and pray for someone, anyone, only for those people

does she exist. Not in the physical sense but in their psyche
and only when they need her most. She strokes the hair
of the down trodden, giving hope to the outcasts –

like a saint.

-L.J. Lenehan-



3 thoughts on “Canonized By The Misfits, The Outcasts, The Artists

  1. Pingback: Pretend – A Saturday Poetry Post | Lyrical Anarchy

  2. L.J.– This verifies my impression of your work….haunting, yet beautiful. I really want you to write a poem for the opening of my next novel. Your work is exquisite.

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