Throne of Pain
Broken feelings
My chest of gold
A ransom of torment
No trinkets sold
The treasure bounteous
Walls lined with blood
Its hurt and pain
I have withstood
The jewels lack sparkle
But shimmer deep
Their cut and clarity
My soul to keep
And words if cheapened
Must leave this throne
As the lid reopens
—on the pain I own
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2016)
Copyright © Kurt Philip Behm | Year Posted 2018
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