She Speaks, Too
Eyes bright, back straight and tight, head held high, what a guy;
Detriment, excrement, wiping at the dust that's in your eye.
Shame, embarrassment, your pose is rather obvious;
A too large smile, a wracking laugh, mental storm tempestuous.
There's no way to hide who you are inside,
not very well, not for very long
You can try to write your feelings down,
and turn your pains into a song.
But can we take these angry demons,
trade horns for wings and angels make?
Can we turn our ears from angry cries,
and do what's right for it's own sake?
Can we light a lamp of understanding,
shedding light on mistakes lying in our past?
Can we hold to bright ideals of truth,
lean on strength unseen, yet that lasts?
Can we spear ahead through ranks of doubt,
arriving sound of battles made?
Can we tenaciously seek dreams
whilst enemies hound and daylight fades?
Can we ultimately find peace, final words having been said?
I think we can...
Hearken to the angel's cry!
She said, "Sup," and a smile bloomed on your face
And the morning, though late, unfolded lightly in your heart
Even as demons raced to make her word dark
But she sits with me; she is there, presence comforting.
She spoke because she felt my tears, wanting me to know that she was near.
Thank you, my angel. I wish I knew your name.
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