Not bleeding, still wounds they are

 

Not bleeding, still wounds they are

 

Not bleeding, still wounds they are.

Some where, in your heart, sticking,

Why somewhere, mostly in most parts,

Gnawing  and annoying like wintry chill;

 

  You come out of its  creepy wound cuts,

  You tend to forget the   outcome, self

  donned in n gentler garb, even while

  the slings and arrows  pierce your

 

  forgetting orb, giving a  nod, a cool pass off.

 Hectic days  and sleepless  nights    in their own

world taking you along their wingless poesy

Only recourse  and remedy you dwell  in.

 

A god given boon and bliss you cherish

Wishing for the same your life’s journey

Soothing your wounds in a calm flow

 Still the wounds not bleeding, yet

 

  Pain hanging your vestige with

Time’s coin rolling on and on

Wounds get slow healed  their pace

Still wounds they are, not bleeding.

 

 Only recourse  and remedy you dwell  in poesy

While peace serenades your  body and mood;