Words
Hurt.
They sting —
No take backs.
Brutal . . . abusive,
Lashing out with disdain and spite.
Tears
Form.
They build,
Welling up,
Ready to spill forth,
Evidence of the soul's distress.
A
Soul
Stricken
With sadness,
Harboring despair.
Where is the relief to be found?
The
Eyes —
Windows
To the soul;
Sorrow, peeking out.
Locked in . . . desperate to escape.
Hope,
Peace,
Safety,
Seem distant,
Elusive . . . fleeting,
Blown away by depression's winds.
Shall another be sacrificed on despair's altar?
A victim of caustic contempt,
A soul languishing,
Suffering,
Alone,
Crushed,
Starved.
Where is the chalice of kindness?
Uplifting the soul,
Allowing
Healing
To
Start.
Where is the balm of acceptance?
Giving the soul worth,
Self-respect,
Helping
It
Rise.
Who will be the one to reach out?
Offering support,
Calling out,
"All is
not
lost."
Could I be the message bearer?
Reviving lost hope,
Vanquishing
Despair . . .
Gloom?
Yes
