GONE

What’s done is done. What’s gone is gone.

Going to places we had been

Only to realize it was taken for granted

Nothing can be done to mend the past

Even sacrifices had gone to dust

One word that could have changed the now

No voice could reach except yours

Every scar is a battle lost

Gentle or not the wind blew

Neat as can be, you showed your hands

Every line stoke got a story to tell

Generous they say but nothing stands

Over the tongue full of malice

Each battle led has different perspectives

Genuine feelings has been totally suppressed

One offering unheeded for others rescue

No ears, eyes, or lips spare.

Author's Note

This is certainly a free style poem which I just suddenly came up with...randomly.