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Wounded
by Timothy SomersA tongue in a painful tooth,
a scab itch,
a painful truth we revisit
to gain the frame of mind,
insanity.
Viscerally deep we probe,
into the psyche in search of
insecurity.
Ignored lessons never learned,
feelings burned deep
deeper still
bore towards the core of,
instability.
The Ins have it.
Three or mores the score
against ourselves
when intuition meets in-love.
Here,
try on martyrdom,
see if it fits,
just dont get blood on the coat,
its rented.
Have a dose of remorse,
just dont sob too long
or too loudly,
itll make you hoarse.
Then we cant make out the lamentation.
Its been this way from the beginning,
with wounded people.
Nail their hearts to a star
and try to jump the broom,
or at least the church steeple.
Oops, another wound. 08/29/2007 Posted on 08/29/2007
Copyright © 2026 Timothy Somers
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 09/02/07 at 04:54 PM You have graphically depicted mankind--wounded--but not hopeless. Ahhh that church steeple! Not another wound--unless it is of Christ who was wounded for us all. Thought provoking. |
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