Copious amounts of blood flow, nonstop
…..A poet’s head is in total disarray- –
Knocked silly against a sharpened “edge”…
…Bringing forth the dawn of day.
Perhaps, it is a spiritual letting
…..Or some divine circumstance employed
That awoke the poet to the “realization”- –
…That sometimes in life there is no joy!
Oft’ times it is such a struggle
…..Just to tuck themselves into a safe bed…
And protect their minds and souls for living- –
…While blood continues pouring out of their head’s.
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