Bleeding Wounds
It occurs to me,
when driving along
yellow-lit streets
away from home:
We’ve all
fought helpless battles,
we all have
bleeding wounds.
And I can see it
in your eyes
that you’re wounded
and fear for your life.
Bobby Jorgenson not treating
for shock;
you feel you’re bleeding
out but you walk
with swagger and
laugh at jokes
that make you mad
and make you feel broke.
I see the pain
you think you hide;
you walk in rain
and decline rides.
“I’m here for you”
words I can’t say
from fear of ridicule
and what you’ll say.
I look at you just
like looking in a mirror,
it’s a screaming must:
“Please know I’m here!”
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
