Wounds of war, healed with stitches,
Wounds of soul, healed with words,
Pain inflicted,
Cruel to me.
I say no words,
I cry no pain, for I am strong,
Broken and locked,
Will I ever be the same,
I'm the one suffering,
You don't feel the pain,
The burden I have hide.
My words come from feeling,
Nothing but a lie, I'm not lying,
Broken on the ground,
I'm crying out my eyes,
When realisation comes,
I call myself a coward,
My problems are minuscule,
Compared to a life,
I'm not a poet I'm no-one.
In the scheme of things,
No matter, how much I long for you to know,
My name, my reason, but the sorry tears,
Refuse to let back,
I'm crumpling at the knees, dropping in despair, but
artistic licence,
Never fails.
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