Do not by Ann Wood
Do not touch my soul with black handsI still keep in it, the bright colors,
are you standing opposite me
be honest
I quickly feel deep passions.
I stopped being good a long time ago,
I am only principled and more humanly loyal ...
I grew old, wiser, though with
mental traces
from human falsehood and deception.
Every scar in my soul
is a science lesson,
and I am a good student...
I forgive because God commands me to,
but I'm spiteful and hard to forget ...
Poetry by Ann Wood
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Written on 2020-06-09 at 22:08
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