Pain
I call forth pain
upon myself willingly
plunging a sharp dagger each day
into my own heart
by remembering
oh, you cannot see my hidden wounds
as I hide them well
for my scars are mine to love
but I pen grieving words of pain and loss
written with my blood
from this weeping, weeping soul
how can I not do so
and I send my tears on fluttering wings
that swirl and drift in the wind
and my wish is, oh
please land in gentle hands ...
______________________
April 24, 2023
Poetry/Verse/pain
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1542-516-24
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2023
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