In the dead of night the anger, fear,and rage bursts forth; never really knowing why these are brought to me. Yet inside my soul lay the answer buried; as are those that bring their anger. Be this then the reason that they come. Or be it that their words I can not hear. Still in that secret place, they find me. Yet out of the sleep of the dead I find no fear, nor any answers; yet I feel theirs. What is this feeling that I must join them; yet they turn away in the darkness; as the whisper comes.
©2011 Words the Window to the Soul
They come because they know you care and because they know you feel there pain,and because you can speak for them, many would push them aside but you dont you, you try to hear there words
ReplyDeleteSue
Lovely to read one of your poems again Mark...
ReplyDeleteIt has been awhile, the pills keep me from it most of the time.
ReplyDelete