Wounded
Sarcasm your shield and memory your blade
He uses his sarcasm as his shield
Protecting a heart not yet healed
Armor of apathy as he navigates
His course to a life he appreciates
Barricaded from the world’s deceit
Licking wounds from his last retreat
Using his memories as his blade
Never daring to leave his shade
Knowing that a heart can char
Reminder in the shape of a scar
With a past he has not yet buried
In a grave for no longer married
Singing to him the lullaby of hope
May it be enough for him to cope
To leave behind all that hurts
Leave it buried within the dirt
Drop your blade
Leave your shade
And embrace the light once again
About the Creator
Britt Blomster
I'm a writer, poet, storyteller and dreamer. I'm inspired by the world around me and channel that into my writing.
E-mail: [email protected]
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Doing it for the troops
The others dropped like flies around me. We fought and struggled to get to this point. I'm the only one left now. The objective is right there. A mere two hundred feet away. The last of my team got a bullet to the head right next to me, but I couldn't do anything. I was able to locate and neutralise the sniper as he shot my friend, so his death was at least not in vain.
By Mohammed Darasia day ago in Fiction
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