She was not Gold she was God.
She wasn't just a smiling face and a good heart.
She was a perfect portrait of tragedy and pain.
She was what poets described as powerful,
I called her phenomenonal.
For she held the world in a place only I could aspire. And her heart, could mend the broken.
Heal the wounded.
She wasn't out of this world she was the earth, and everything great about it rolled up in one.
She was strength and loyalty,
Brain and brut.
She was the woman you go to war with, the woman you go to war for.
She was the worlds greatest treasure.
And I got to know her.
Feel her hugs,
Know her laugh.
Feel her warmth.
And everyday I sent with her I understood that some people were simply more,
they were everything humanity was built for
Angels sent and God given
YOU ARE READING
Salvaged Soul
Poetry"The mind is a beautiful servant but a dangerous master" It said "so i must then let it serve my soul" I whispered A salvaged soul is not new, it is old. It has lost and is still losing but is no longer who it was when it first broke. To be one step...
