The frosty breath of discontent
Your pallid words do speak,
My hatred burned in gangrene red
The silence of the meek.
Where once you were my bosom friend
Our worlds have grown so far,
And when I try to reach to you
I'm left with just a scar.
I cannot go where you seem to
Lost and trapped in fear,
And I cannot tender teary words
When compassion is yet so near.
What should I do, my once-close friend
To make you feel your worth?
What can I give to ease your pain
And lessen the fate of birth?
Bear up! Chin up! Stand tall and proud!
Remember your strength on loan!
You have chosen to carry the cross
That is heavier than stone.

05/31/2002

Posted on 05/31/2002
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