Andrew Crisci Poet Lyric

Stitch These Painful, Open Wounds

Stitch these painful, open wounds:
fate is something one chooses;
many faces stare and frown...
not an ounce of pity is shown!

I won't ever finish my final score,
I'm another ship stranded offshore;
I've helped other take lift their weight...
until they safely got to their gate!

Not a thankful word I got in return,
not even a handshake as a reward;
risks were a possible hundredfold...
was silence too frightful to mourn?

Stitch these painful, open wounds,
there won't be other serene days;
dreary skies reflect actual life...
they'll march and play the fife! 

I'm too good, I'm too kind;
they give me the thumb down:
reason with the shrewdest mind...
keep afloat and never drown! 

Stitch these painful, open wounds,
am I to blame for all the deaths?
My body was a heavy armor shield;
I can still hear that horrible sound!

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