Let the four line stanzas roll
for all the patches on my soul
Muse I bid you to begin
to gently move the mind and pen.

Imprisoned in this cage of rhyme,
I slowly heal over time,
Although events can take their toll
they sew patches on my soul.

So much more than hideous dreams;
the profaned paper stacked in reams.
Lovers that have come and gone,
circumstance  I stand upon.

Pain of body, pain of mind,
hopes ahead, and loss behind.
I blush as crimson as a rose
for some of the patches I expose.

I feel I should apologize.
All this rhyming seems unwise,
but in all  of this, my only goal
is to show these patches on my soul.