TRADITIONAL CUTS
Beyond the scars is a soul
They pray in solitude always taught the structured hand of the savior.Their humor is held back by the fear of their imperfections threw the judgement of the teachers that emotionally break them.Traditional cuts scars that stay stuck.They ones that claim to be prophets sweep the children’s tears under the rug.Screaming underneath the silence of hungry compassion.Cutting threw the toiled tears of sadness.Listen to the hope as the floor boards rattle emotional bruises never recover from a worn down wooden paddle.Karma will work its way into the false prophets.The evil bounded law bracelets will be their fate on the docket.Traditional cuts No more hunger no more swollen skin or broken blood.No matter how deep the scars the seeds of traditional cuts never lost faith in God’s love.
About the Creator
Angela M streater
Hey everyone I’m Angela I love being creative writing is a big passion of mine.I’ve been wanting to be a writer since the second grade.Those adorable fur babes you see are my life bandit an cupcake.I love sushi an shows like the office.
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COBRA MAN
Two buses to the French fry kingdom. She’s a mere servant to the hungry insecure moles starved for financial freedom.Appalled by what her eyes start to breath in. A human being so lost she can’t believe it. The public glares are often fiendish. She peers at the island on the highway out the window. Their scrutiny so sinful. Watching spectators fly past the cobra man labeling him a nuisance surrounded by empty quarts.Some people are just assholes that don’t have any heart.Cobra man you were such a fresh face so long ago.You live in the center of traffic with no place to the world but the death stroll.God’s hand needs you so don’t drown your hope.Please come back from the bottom of the cobra bottle cause you have love on the outside so much more than what you know.Cobra Man.
By Angela M streater3 years ago in Poets
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