I write with the passion
Of wandering stars and broken guitars.
I write to heal wounded souls
That flitter through blindness,
With unseen scars.
But you use words to create
Bruises in the heart
That love cannot take.
Your words intend to hurt
Batter and blind,
Wounds never left behind.
I accept your lashings.
I swallow my pride.
One day my love for you will die.
The ache in my soul will fade in time.
I will continue to scribe and rhyme.
But upon whom will you unleash
your words of pain?
Whose spirit will you break?
Whose life will you shame?
done by christine
