My words were never penned,
To be read out aloud.
I fear my voice may now offend;
Be it humble:
I dread it proud.
On paper thoughts seem clear.
More meanings spring to mind.
I hope that ears can hear...
...What had I hoped to find?
In silence I re-read each one.
You might say I'm obsessed.
I hope that when my reading's done,
You'll know that I feel blessed.
Feelings clean, like water, flow
Across my sober page.
I taste sweet emotions now...
...No longer bitter rage.
I was once entrapped in one.
Dead man at the throttle;
Faith and hope were all undone.
Thank God I lost me bottle.
No perfect man to rest is laid.
It's prayed for; not avowed.
If and when mistakes are made;
I know that I'm allowed.
© Copyright 2016 craaig. All rights reserved.
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