Healing and fixing
While carrying a backpack of scars,
A box of pain on his left shoulder,
A bucketful of tears on his right
But all he ever does is look ahead and heal
Only occasionally looking behind, left and right
People say they're only humans
And they say that humans can only take so much
But if they're still carrying on, still moving on, still healing, still fixing
Then does that mean they're not human?
Clockwork creatures, perhaps?
Who take a fall
Take a blow
But still stand up straight
To extend their hands to another fallen soul
In the end, I think
That's what we all are
Broken clockwork creatures fixing other broken clockwork creatures.
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The Soul's Voice
PoetryThe soul wishes It vies for a world of Love, devoid of hatred, knowing full well that the wish may not come true. It wishes because it's the only thing it knows how to. And a soul's wish, a soul's voice Carries more power than the wor...
