I don't want to
get hurt, not anymore, not again.
I want to be
Gritted teeth, bloody knuckles, bruised knees and fire in my eyes.
But meet me
And I will be
Soft smiles, helping hands, lending you my jacket, sparkles in my eyes.
Because, oh, how good does it feel to help other, to be a beacon of hope, to make someone smile.
But does it weigh up to the risk of getting hurt?
I really wouldn't know
-
If you do hurt me,
Really, really hurt me,
Strike me down
I will make sure
To shut the door
And never, ever,
Let you in again
[I don't want to lose someone either]
YOU ARE READING
Under the moonlight
PoesíaPoems and thoughts. ...What else am I supposed to do? These are things I wrote down the way I think, with sweltering anger and invigorating joy, in tears and smiles. I dearly hope you will take these words as advice, to live by and never to forget. ...
