Final Thought

They weren’t for me
You weren’t for me
There will never be someone for me
For to be for
To be a gift
A person will never be
No matter how much I ask,
I pray, cry, hope,
And cry again
A person is to bring
More than one can bear
Their love to make
Dreams and hopes dull
Their heart, just a piece
To fill the whole when giving yours
But my soul hides itself
In plain sight, with simple cloth
My wound on my shoulder
That shows the missing half was
It festers
Wicked in my eyes
My skin burns and discarded from my frequent gaze
It’s cloaked with tortured flesh
This wound is what finds love
What makes us seek
My deception leaves me foreign
But maybe that wound will heal
So there is no longer any thought
To be had

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