Sticks With Stones
I lay roses at their feet.
They toss thorns at mine.
I speak with silk songs.
They spew wiry lines.
I approach in peace.
They come with stones.
I throw out love.
They heave bones.
How can I enjoy softness?
They rather pursue judgment.
Most good deeds go unnoticed.
Slander gets no punishment.
Am I the target or dangerously positioned in the crossfire?
Copyright © Sherrita Robinson | Year Posted 2023
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