my poets notebook,
I open at time when wounds go deep.
Words bleed on page covering sun wanting to come forth.
They expand as versus cannot be covered by a simple bandied in mind.
The **** like descriptive words like abandonment, lies and dis-enheridence burn, as they are released
from heart to pen and pen to paper.
Hurt from family seemed to have festered for a lifetime. as screams begging for clousure are shouted to be scribed.
Slowly the mind quiets as its words are release and poem concludes.
Perhaps they will shout
in a readers eyes begging to be loved.
Only time will tell.
Not every pome I write can be positive. Just going through some family issues. All meant to be as I grow and expand. It *****.
