Bag Of Wounds
Poem By Bree Z. Love
I was handed a bag of wounds that did not belong to me.
Handed to me; surprisingly.
As, if it was a token of love; a gift to be shared.
Me, being naive and foolish; I accepted the thing like it was fair.
Just because I am a person who is kind and cares.
The heaviness of your and mine was too much to bare.
That thing drained my mind and youthfulness.
Until, I was ridden and withered down.
Down to my last nerves; snapped.
Breaking the straps;
I ran right to the bins in those alleys that started this affair.
Dark and lonely; yet I was not even scared.
Dump those bags and walked away with just my own cares.