By Tony DeLorger © 2013
Broken souls are abundant,
limping, damaged hurt,
far beyond the pain of heart,
grievous, broken, inert.
When the pain of life is absolute,
too much for an open heart to bare,
it is the soul that bares the deepest scars,
and is crippled, beyond repair.
Then the pain is evident,
in actions left of centre,
hollowed responses from darkest depths,
where angels dare not enter.
From here a soul reinvents itself,
the scars a clothing held,
and in a tangent world, a reality,
far from truth compelled.
Broken often means damage,
to others in a desperate plight,
to balance all that has been lost,
and in resurrection, gain flight.
The irony remains blatantly clear,
the hurt purveyors of hurt,
instead the empathy of a healing hand,
the vengeance of a heart exert.
We all carry luggage, life is a journey of experience. But when a soul turns to persecute innocents to somehow reconcile their own lives and past hurt, they are lost.
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