The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide

The Wound Is Still Real

They tore the plaster off but the wound was still real.
Infected by this earth of man and with no deal.

They didn’t see the wound grow, cut itself down and so deep. 
The change happened so, so slow until the wound found its own feel.

The mind connected through, tried to fight the cruel wound. A barrier built deep inside, sometimes it wore down to unleash the cruel fool.

They tore the plaster off but the wound is still real.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

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The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace