Sunday, March 20, 2011

Hurting



Where did all the flowers go?
I watered them and gave hoe.
Why on Earth do you say so?
I cannot know but you should slow.

Look around before you crush,
the little ones who might have thrush.
Rotten words, coarse mouths, wrap it in,
before you sin.

Yikes! You stepped on me.
Did you mean repentancy?
I am often confused within,
will you tell me if I win?

Discard much and don't you rush,
I'm not much, I don't have trust.
I'm afraid of most that know,
I am put down and I don't sound.

I exist in simple lisp,
falter on, much resist.
Words are found, repent on mound.
Can you say that you are found?

Are you always right on this?
Do you find you can't resist?
Don't you know you have my wrist?
Twisting, Burning, Hurting this.


K.A.P.

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