Our Words Are a ChaliceA Poem by Aella.livesThorny barbed words that blear my judgment My self have been given, too. I find I can hide behind the rain That beats my skin with ice; halts, Suns. Condemned roots that travel between the lines To stroke the words on its edges. I find I can stain paper with ink and Make black a chalice, gold; halts, Syllables. When this child knows no language, Of austere kisses that have been given life, I find I can grieve with him, too. It grates against time; halts, Tomorrow. © 2012 Aella.livesReviews
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StatsAuthorAella.livesBitter Isles, GAAboutI write poetry and occasionally short stories as a hobby... I am so completely lost in what I want to do with my life.. But I enjoy what little bit of life I do have... I have a cat named Elvis and .. more..Writing
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