Each year I encounter gentle souls For whom my every action is a trial Patterns learned from childhood Conflicted shifting words I see distaste mirrored in clear eyes Sadness creeping through A battlefield of shame Cold soldier on a lonely front Bringing home a taste for poison Pass pain in lover's kisses and Embracing long lost children If only I had kept my peace When the chance to strike came there Let them beleive what they would Support their bubble world Protect innocence from darkness As I promise that I will Clear eyes would still be still Not run with shattered tears Friendships would still be alive Not ghosts to haunt my days Their joy a bitter pill
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This work is Copyright (c) Mike Fletcher 2002