Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2013
The grace of God was painted
on the canvass of your soft skin,
but you don't see it.

I try to touch it,
but you secret it away
like a scar,
or deformity.

I pray for strength,
but the devil propositions
where God charges admission...

no one knocks a free ride.
Shane Hunt
Written by
Shane Hunt  Saturn
Please log in to view and add comments on poems