SOUL SKETCHING

A voice of pure honey Too bad you have that face Busking in this alley Seems an appropriate place You are so skilled Woodcarving is in your soul Without that wheelchair You could be free to go ....where words don't cut You ruin everything Can't keep a secret to save your life You're a waste of breath So sickly, you might as well die Bitterness runs in your veins Hate spews out of your mouth Violence in movement Stop breaking sound ....where melodies settle dust Lazy, worthless, lay about Go find something to do Depression has no pill The streets are calling you No vision, no hope You're a blob of wasted space You screwed up my life I had "a place" ....where matter makes tattoos Little baby with sketches As deep as a ravine Don't allow those wounds To have the power to mean Liars are sprinkled Along life's walking path To prevent authenticity From having the courage to take back TRUTH ...where TRUTH restores soul Written by Trudy Schrader on 02-24-2024