My seam has come unraveled,

my heart has grown some mold,

the roads which I have traveled,

have made me feel so old.

My knees are rough from kneeling,

my back sore from bending down,

begging for some real feeling,

all you offered was a frown.

The holes that were created,

will never close completely up,

what was it you so hated?

why was your love an empty cup?

My soul is sore and tired,

I truly need a rest,

when all that I desired,

was to give to you my best.

You took from me my all,

which I gave to you for free,

made me feel so small,

but I kept going in spite of thee.

By: Beverly Beekmans (2010)