Disappointment is a sting to the heart.
I know I disappointed them,
but how do I start?
My poems bring shadows to their eyes,
they expected more 'happy' things.
I can't tell them lies.
These poems flow from my heart,
Bringing out what I believe is the best of me.
How can we part?
Sadness clings to my heart,
they can't accept me for who I am.
But what did I expect?
They'll never understand.
