Your words that come to me pleading for another chance,
Cut holes into my weary heart as if by a piercing lance.
The travesty you've harbored in each callous act of past,
How can your memories fool you to think that we would last?
My soul's been taught the lesson of blind trust time and again,
The sanctity of virtue is not a valued prize among all men.
I shall walk the path, slowly climbing to the mountain's top,
Send love and daily blessings, for true love will never stop.
Copyright © Michele Osborn, 2012
All Rights Reserved
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