Photo by Izzy Gibson on Unsplash
Some wounds don't bleed, they fester-
Inflicted unseen, they
Lie- silent, disguised as
Evenings wasted in drink; or
New trinkets stacked on old piles; they
Call chaos calm and pain a balm, until they
End themselves in silence.
About the Creator
Judah LoVato
My collection of sometimes decent writing
Which I've left "there" for seekers to seek
Though I lack the grandeur of that Pirate King
Perhaps these pebbles can be a light
In this life, this laughing tale
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