mixed emotions

I wrote big Sis a long email pouring my heart out to her.
Liberation, that's what it was.

You can run, but u can never hide. Because it'll always come back to you.


The weary heart with pricks embed,
with each beating it bleeds a crimson red.
When the pricks are lifted, the wound is raw,
thus seeth the gush of blood in unfazed awe.
Time will heal but the scars remain,
a blatant reminder of the pricks of disdain.


*sigh.

Lord Help.