A naïve gigantic rooster of only black & white I might be,
squawking around the farm. But it still hurts when they use
the friendship knife to cut your head off doesn’t it?
However small the size of this heart might be, it still can crack deep.
I guess I still can shed a tear or two behind the mask of silence I wear around. Storm can still flow through my every cell.
How simplistic of me to trick myself into believing it was still day
with the many candles I lit around me when it was deep dark outside.
A look at the wrist watch tells me time will wash off the pain. I'll treasure the scar…
---
Men probably marry after friends kill themselves in their eyes...