Love this poem!

19 Oct


I wonder if my voice
could ever become
worn out
and my words
Will there be a day
when you skim by
these overused lines
and thoughts.
Is the day going to come
when I will recycle
these pages
in a burning pile
sending their ashes
to the heavens.  
I plead,
never forsake
my pain
and the beating of my
struggling heart.
Don’t overlook
these scars
I’ve marked with
pens, I beg you
don’t leave me
here to die alone. 


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