By distant moon
Date: 2007 Oct 29
Comment on this Work
[[2007.10.29.00.20.6041]]

The Writing that Heals the Wounds that Sting

Till I clasp my hands in a fit of anger
and you roll your eyes in light of my tongue,
and the heavens open up and a hand comes crashing down,
that's how I'll know when this is done.

But I do regret that it must go there
having worked so hard and then some;
having bled myself dry and again and again
and now I'm crying for a little love,
but a blending I will go now,
to toss all my cares away,
it'll work itself out, in a scream or shout,
or in a few words on a page.
And it'll give itself away.