I can point out the cracks,
The places that never quite heal
This one from Newtown
Another from a Texas church
And all those in between
Etchings on this old heart,
Dinged by each death,
Pitted by the greed of lawmakers
Broken by the callous, rote responses,
Their thoughts and prayers
Who will take this cup from me?
Who wants this scarred heart?
I’m tired of carrying the damage around
Of wounds that don’t mend
And people who don’t care.
A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.
Doing the best I can with what I have
kind of sad, but not so bad with cheese. cheese not provided.
My streams of thought meet here
Photographer based in Stockholm, Sweden
Ramblings
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Besteesydian
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Life in a flash - a bi-weekly storytelling blog
MARK PETRUSKA | WRITER
Short essays about novels and other fictional works
By Ian Garrabrant
Home of Micropoetry, Literature, art and philosophy.
Just a fiction writer, trying to reach the world.
Praying for Eyebrowz 
Oh my lovely Leslie, how well said is this xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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Thank you!
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So sad XX
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It’s like carrying around a heavy weight all the time.
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Almost too much to bear. Beautiful.
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Thank you. I hate that I had to write if.
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It.
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All that needs to be said. Thanks, Leslie. – Marty
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Thank you, Marty.
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Reblogged this on Praying for Eyebrowz and commented:
And again.
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