My Thanks
Henceforth I cannot express
the pain I once felt toward humanity,
it subsided with all of the rest.
Thoughts of fear, of sadness once drove me.
My raging hatred consuming
what I thought, what I felt was my core,
its restraint being only a pen and a notebook.
Poetry as the backdoor.
Hints toward expressing the passion
as a gift and a curse both alike.
But regardless of which, using both as a stitch
to connect back the fabric of life.
Compassion shown through example observed
into eyes singed by selfish desire.
You gave me the urn filled with tears of the past
to dampen the once raging fire.
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