Tattered and torn
Futtering weakly in the wind
A heart been through more then its share
Coming to blows is no longer an issue
Its the soft breath
That will make it keel over
Hardened and leathering
Toughening in preperation
For the next cheap shot
The next parry
The new version
Of the same old thing
Hurting all the time
Nothing coming to ease it
The dark is its solice
Seeking the shadows
As its friends
While vainly searching
Tattered and torn
Badly needing replacement
But there is no seamstress to be found
No healer
Darkness is its solice
And only the shadows are its company

01/27/2002

Posted on 01/27/2002
Copyright © 2024 Howard F Farewell