Deep Is the Wound

Deep is the wound
that festers with anger.

Sliced open like unto a paper cut
the particles of resentment settled.

The ticking of the clock
tamps the bits down further still.

The bits and particles enlarge
swelling with pride.

Alas bitterness sets in
like unto an addiction or cancer.

With relevance or not
provocation erupts with fire and pain.

Offend me now at your own risk
for rage is mine to dispense.

Deep is the wound
that festers with anger.

Deep is the wound
when cuts and slices enter.

The salt of purity
burns greater still.

The ticking of the clock
allows grace to soothe and to heal.

Willful forgiveness and conscious forgetfulness
frees the patient to choose to live and to not die.

Alas goodness, peace, joy and security
bear fruit like unto an orchard of Love.

With relevance I can speak with gentleness
if asked about this or that.

Offenses to me I will not hold onto
for I care not to be owned by another.

Deep may be the wound
yeah purity and holiness goes deeper still.

 

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