Write long and hard about what hurts
But I can’t for fear
Of the bridges I’ll burn
I read my own words
With such shades of obstinence
What’s the use of such words
If tinged with arrogance?
I think of then and I think of them
Of the burdens and demons hidden
Behind the memories, behind the thoughts, the fears
Behind the crumpling of the jar that once held these tears
And for you who are wondering
Yes, the good Lord remains
My closest confidante
It’s my words who return with disdain.