Poison
Venomous words of the serpent. Bleeding wounds that sting.
If I continue to stay how wise would I be?
Benefit of the doubt cast time and time again.
Forgiving them for striking. Helping hands I continued to lend.
Enduring each bite despite the ever growing pain.
My cross becoming increasingly heavier each time I accepted blame.
Crying out to God. Begging for peace to calm my rambling mind.
Stood at the crossroads knowing the way I should go but I pretended to be blind.
Out of fear of letting go I held on tight to what I had known.
But the seeds of understanding grew not. No matter how many were sown.
Copyright © Christina Hons | Year Posted 2015
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