The Terrible Tale
Once again I sit to write,
On the same desk, with the same pen.
But the hurt isn't the same.
And I can't make it come back again.
If only I could put into verse,
the pain that day does hold
in the back of my mind it rests
waiting to be told.
I know it will open, one day,
and my hand will flow so free.
I pray that day is soon,
and the hurt will stop consuming me.
Of course, some of you will shudder,
and some will shy away,
for not many are willing to hear
the telling of that day.
But I must press on and write it out
for with it comes some healing
If I ever want to let it go,
I must do some revealing.
And when the day is finally here
I'll sit back and write it all
For I have a story to tell.
A terrible tale, to recall.