They Know Not

Words, like rain drops, come as spear tips –
ripping through the softness of my soul.
Yet I lay still – waiting for an end –
motionless – accepting the pain’s fullness.

Quietly I will ride the storm –
keeping it’s secrets inside – letting them
fall into my ripped, gaping wounds.
And when others say –
…… walk this way….
it is only here I shall lay –
bleeding.

For only blood forgives.
And they – minstrels of themselves –
will drink it in ignorance,
lapping away my love.

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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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About johnallenrichter

I am an aspiring Poet and adorer of life, a conqueror of nothing. However I am a champion curator of truth and friendship and hold both of those things most dearly to my heart. Welcome to my mind's eye. I hope you will enjoy what you may find and please know that you have a friend here. View all posts by johnallenrichter

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