Well, here's another sucky poem coming your way.
Your voice of Reason.
We lay on the grass,
Our fingers intertwined.
You recall your past,
And say what's on your mind.
My love, you kept it a secret so long.
Someone hurt you, they did you wrong.
You've dealt with the pain
All of your life.
Now please let it go,
The anger and strife.
My love, we've all been hurt,
Pushed around and treated like dirt.
You told me your story,
And I told you mine.
Your life, in it's own sad glory,
My life, fairly hard to define.
My love, it is starting to rain,
As you admit the burning pain.
I am smiling as we rise,
And as you take my hand.
Your eyes are all the more wise,
For now you understand.
Flames on my aweful poetry are accepted.