Sharp slivers left behind..
Drops of blood ripple
the waters of the dieing.
An open wound..
Deep but not seen..
Wooden spears in the echoes
of this beating heart..
As hopelessness shatters dreams..
Ever so slowly drowning
in the bottomless black
of humanities blood filled ravine...
The heart always beating...
Yes, always bleeding..
Yet never never seen.
i sometimes have to catch myself and go back
you are a very creative pressence here!!!
Ron
Love Tinka
This is a very sad and moving pen...
Peter
Reindeer