They were words on crutches

Disorganized lines left untouched

Of things too raw
Of things wrapped in thorns
They were falling bricks
The cracks never sealed
The souls that always leaked
All the rights that should’ve been
Lost in words we couldn’t speak
In the sins we couldn’t forgive
And wounds that didn’t heal

They were words made of mist
Existing in chances we’d missed

Published by Nthepa Segage