Surviving the Knife

Knives,
The wound invention.
Scarred,
There’s no prevention.
Memories,
Unnecessary reminders.
Tragedies,
The unbreakable binders.
Blood,
The tears of a heart.
Sweat,
From fighting so hard.
Screams,
The voice of the weak,
Tears,
A soul with a leak.
Aching,
A natural way of life.
Surviving,
By holding the knife.

9-16-1990 Sunday
Written by Gail Brookshire
God is my hero

Young Girls

We tell secrets.
We laugh a lot.
Things of tragedies,
We haven’t forgot.
Best friends, twin sisters,
We really love each other.
But there will be a day,
We won’t see one another.
We play games.
We giggle at things.
We find songs.
We love to sing.
We play house.
We play braves.
We find an entrance
To our graves.

10-18-1989
Written by Gail Brookshire
Inspiration: dear friends ❤