I guess pain is the thing of the Devil,
A string wound around our bodies,
Tightened at intervals,
To remind us that we're captive.
I suppose that everyone feels it,
But some use theirs as a knife,
To wound others,
And the ones who feel more.
Each little secret I hold,
An unnecessary burden,
From things I've witnessed,
Which I would rather not tell.
Would it make anyone feel better?
As if we're more equal?
Look at me- my body is made of misery,
And my fingers are made from agony.
My pain is woved into my skin,
Stitches of nothingness,
And needles of emptiness,
And I'll fall asleep at night counting all of my secrets.
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Swallows- A Poetry Collection
Poesie~My heart soars with the swallows... ~ Swallows- "Peaceful, Loving and full of Hope..." - What I wish I could be... ~This is a collection of the words I was never able to say~ Thank you to everyone who reads thi...
