stained by blood, and want…
whose face on the milk carton?
whose footprints in the alley?
whose tongue turns the nut?
whose breath stagnant with hurt?
we write our stories in lifetimes,
lived, or burned…
the fire itself dim with age.
is love then destiny, a curse,
or a storm?
doth the night ever end?
and the unknown ship
sailing unknown waters,
carries the scent
of both home and grace!
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just taking a moment,
for all those who take thetime to read and commenton my poems…and to say thank you forall the amazing poems thati get to read of yours.also, a thank you to Poemhunter.be at peace!keep writing!
if every man in America
with his own mouth,we wouldnt have a problemwith gay rights!if every man and womanin America knew they wereas responsible for their thoughtsas for their actions…we’d all be on death row!if every man and womanin America spent as much timetrying to help their neighborsas they spend trying to get ahead…we’d all be taken care of!if every…