Tuesday, March 22, 2011


I clean your wounds
and my own heal
I empathise
and to my suprise
It's easier to
forgive my foes
to stand up and
stop ranting about
these tales of woes
It frightens no more,
the sight of this
blood n' gore
I'm neither buried
in terror
nor soaring high
For I accept that
one day, I'll die
so will he
the one who can't
express his heart
so will she
the one who woudn't
use her mind
but is still
most kind
she loves me despite
knowing me well
with all the fears
I can't dispell

But as I
tend to your wound
my pain subsides
but why?
unaware of all
from me, that
my own mind hides
the doors open
in my dreams
I see not only
the surreal sights
of soaring along the
lovely meandering streams
I see as well that
I'm stuck in mesh
with claws
tearing at my flesh
and gradually it's
all too real
but when I..
I bandage your wounds
my own heal

I stare into you
And see my heart
It begins to
make sense, part by part
I am the claw, that rips
I am the hand. that whips
I gift wounds to one and all
I feel humbled, I feel small

I cover your wounds
and stroke your hair
I kiss your forehead
and put you to bed
and quietly walk away
relieved of my own pain
these lessons in life
will not go in vain

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