A poem about different kinds of wounds and a little about friendship |
A weapon may cut your flesh and a fall may break your bones. No matter what it is made of, be it sticks or stones. As a response you mind gives you pain and tells you to quickly run. These wounds are healed by time and their battles easily won. Internal damages are a little different, since they can't always be seen. You might have a tumour in your brain, or carry a defect gene. Out of this a handicap might spawn while you're still unaware of your disease. You will live with it forever, until you feel death's cold breeze. Here we are now at the end of the line. With the most horrible wound of all. The scar in your mind. In a symphony of horror it can haunt you until you die. It might have come from a rejection or a simple goodbye. Whatever the reason may be the facts still remain. If you let it take over your soul you will meet your bane. But feel no fear for a cure is near. In the shape of a friend to whom a plead you can send. Whenever you have fallen down, your friend will lend a hand. Bringing trust and comfort, and once again make you stand. I've now gathered three kinds of nightmares. The one thing they have in common is that they bring tears. I might not be like time and be able to cure a scar. I cannot cure a tumor that would be bizarre. What I am is a friend who will lend out a hand to once again, help you stand. |