Wounded Healer

By those he thought of as his friends
Yet still he cares
And gladly shares

By those he loved above all others
Yet still he trusts
It seems he must

To cold, cruel laughter as they walk away
Yet still he hears
As spirit whispers in his ear

He tries to heal the many wounds
Never finding better way
Never seeing light of day

And still he goes
When name is whispered on the wind
Never knowing reason why
Only learning to deny
The pain inflicted

Why is it we keep going back for more…?


Copywrite© 1998 Michaelette L. Romano
All rights reserved
Take me home...