Inspite of a tender heart, an open wound is felt
Reading the lessons from past noble ones
Fear not the wrath of a heart so pure
I tremble before the forces that nature imposes
The blustery wind comes in to give fuel to the fire
A tidal wave sent to quench the fire
I am masked in injustce no where to run
Pride gives me wings but takes away my flight
The magic in heart pure, gives fancy to its own wrath
© 2006 T. Scott
Saturday, August 4, 2007
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