Wounded Words

You need to do this It would be better if you ...did it my way My way, well, I don't know I'm still figuring it out ....along the way Ways,days, leave me dazed With confusion, illusion, and conclusions ....that never pan out But I want you to listen I have important things to say ....I'm a poet, for goodness sake Words, like perfectly formed turds Still stink when they are delivered ....no matter how tightly wound A wounded wound, makes a distinguished sound On the piano of the heart ....like a weighted string B R e a k ing.....trying to take on one more note The pressure of holding it together Giving way...to the thud, of words .....pianos float notes...not words The beauty of rhythm and flow, gone The whipping of the string, finally free ....to make noise in the air with WHOever is there daring to care for the broken great. Written by Trudy Schrader on 09-30-2018 Note: Fear communications are so damaging...just had to walk away. Also, it's a wounded (injury) wound (past tense of wind...ahhh...words make me silly with joy).