Wounded wing, broken dream.
Booming promises, lies abloom.
Told what to do …
A wise woman made, healed, broken, healed.
Each scar a badge, a crimson past.
(Copyright @ 2020 D. M. Pearson. Do not reproduce without the permission of the author.)
Eigengrau – The blog of author D. M. Pearson
Author of Shadowlands Poetry