Healing not the same as Cured
Strolling alone, along the desolate shore,
After a stormy night, when the hell opened its door,
The thunders left their tell tale lore,
When I saw a moth wiggling in the lesions of the floor,
Her colorful wings now lost to the wrath of last night’s pour,
Her grace defaced, and her once stunning beauty now lives no more,
Lesions of the past would heal, but her arms would never be restored,
She may learn to wiggle as the caterpillar, she was once before,
But someone said it right, that, healing is not the same as cured,
Wounds might heal but scars will be left forever, for sure!
(2013)
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