Sore

Aching me sore are the muscles

barely holding my weary head

just high enough to balance

my precarious states of dread

Aching me sore is the tired

my limbs seeming to crack

slumping my shoulders deeply

rounding the small in my back

Aching me sore is the moving

yearning to take me somewhere

blistering steps in the soul of my feet

callous my once tender care

Aching me sore is the notice

my hope squinting to see

forcing through muddled visions

for the me I was left here to be

Aching me sore are the tears

bubbling warm from beneath

swelling the cause in my journey

to shallow the colors of grief

Aching me sore is the constant

pulsing inside hidden scars

longing to itch for the healing

but begging the end isn’t far

KLR ~ July 2007

artist unclear Pic source

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