A Past Cries
The morning cries with pieces of you
Down to the ground with the early dew
Hearing winds that say your name
Like wild mustangs; never tamed
A broken soul shouts like shattered glass
A bridge burned; never to pass
Sights seen; but are not there
When time stands still …stillness I hear.
Bury me, help me, save me
My path is broken; having to pay the fee
My suffering sought, down to my knees
No more can I do, as the morning cries with pieces of you.
Copyright © Holly Ward | Year Posted 2012
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