Trust

This world holds you with rough calloused hands

It’ll turn you and twist you and sigh

It’ll drop you and crush you and bruise you and then

Wait for you to die.

A person’s hands aren’t quite as large

Can’t hold as much

        but might try

Sometimes the gentlest touch there is

Comes shaking and honestly by.

Reviews

[Alessander]

I really like the rhythm of it. This piece looks different than your usual stuff from what I can remember.

maybe you can omit the "there is" - the "much" can then rhyme with "touch"? Just a thought.

nice work.

[An owl on the moon]

There is that mingling of pain and beauty here flowing through your words, Aimee.. The world can be so cruel, so what a gift to find one that can be trusted to care and love and stay...