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Wednesday, August 27, 2008

we are so proud of our strengths and we seek to hide our weaknesses.

yet how weak we are in our strength,
how strong we are in our weaknesses.

i am.

how do we justify our pride and oh the merry words of consolation doesn't mean a thing. it doesn't mean a thing to me at all. in self-denial we lie in a bed of roses. the thorns that prick us we pretend. as long as we pretend that they're not there, we presume our wounds can hide.

how foolish our weak little hearts become. our lies so piercingly truthful. and the red stains so deep and dark. almost black. we cannot hide.

how art thou so blind to the bleeding black. can't you see the pain in those eyes. and the flinches where your hand caresses. so gentle yet the joyful heart has turned abashed

the kiss from a rose so soft and sweet, yet how it pricks and the red of the rose melts into the redness of the wounds from a bleeding heart.

you don't need tears to cry.
-cheryl
12:57 PM





Cheryl

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