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Poetry: Bitter Poetry
Intentions
by Manuel Robles

It was your intent to tell;
nothing was told.
Secrets are kept and no
one would know.
Fear is clear with the
intentions to hurt.
Facing the fear with truth
is a blur;
Think about it!
Covered with a blanket.
Covered with fear, with the intent to peak
and a nerve to speak, afraid no one would hear.
Hurt is not my intention.
I know my self for that happened
to me.
I now spoke with the intentions to
set you free,
set you free.

 
 
 
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