I’ve heard screams in bodies that
feel speechless and
Dim,
like a burning lantern,
flickering for a child who is afraid of the dark.
I’ve seen the tears of a tired lion,
sitting on the corner of busy streets
holding a thin sheet of white on their chest,
asking for forgiveness by burning in the sun.
That’s courage,
And scars are forming on skin that sheds empathy
though the soul it protects has not been touched.
I’ve tasted blood from not my mouth,
and swallowed the spit of a muttering tongue -
chanting the foundations of what love means
and why we look up when we’re
at our lowest point.
I’ve touched a heart,
and mended its beating on a last breath.
Maybe we are all the same,
blinded by our own story.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
I’ve heard screams in bodies that
feel speechless and
Dim,
like a burning lantern,
flickering for a child who is afraid of the dark.
I’ve seen the tears of a tired lion,
sitting on the corner of busy streets
holding a thin sheet of white on their chest,
asking for forgiveness by burning in the sun.
That’s courage,
And scars are forming on skin that sheds empathy
though the soul it protects has not been touched.
I’ve tasted blood from not my mouth,
and swallowed the spit of a muttering tongue -
chanting the foundations of what love means
and why we look up when we’re
at our lowest point.
I’ve touched a heart,
and mended its beating on a last breath.
Maybe we are all the same,
blinded by our own story.
