Angry words hurled like knives,

leaving wounds that run deep.

These injuries won’t heal–

for it is far too late.

 

Sorry is never said,

stuck in your throat with time.

Silence pervades and grows–

for it is far too late.

 

And then disaster struck,

ripping away all hope.

Only absence remains–

for it is far too late.

 

I trace the well cut stone,

read the names and the dates.

The old adage; Rest In Peace–

for it is far too late.

Unknown

Disclaimer: I do not own the imagery used in this blog post and have no artistic claim to it.

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