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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #994143
Those who you care about seem to hurt you the most. A poem to a loved one.
Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but bones can be mended.
My heart is broke,
my feelings crushed;
You had no good intended.

All the things I do for you,
like promise I'd be there.
I don't hurt you,
but you hurt me.
The times I hurt you are rare.

Now I see you're God's project,
for he's opened my eyes.
You can't hurt me,
He protects me.
Never again shall I cry.

But I really wonder if
you know you hurt me so.
Perhaps you do,
or maybe not.
Only God's the one who knows.
© Copyright 2005 Aime Noir (aimenoir at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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