When my soul is tired, and needs to rest,
I ask for guidance and strength to go on.
Angels whisper and request that I listen,
for they will sing, when I play their song.
There is a melody within, only I can hear,
a rhythm so soothing, it brings forth the light.
Sometimes, I forget, about the music inside,
it hides under the scars, that never heal right.
My wounds are my demons, they like to play,
invading my thoughts, telling me vicious lies.
I cast them aside, order them to go away,
ready to play a masterpiece, the angels sigh.
© Debra McLain
Excerpt from the book “Silhouettes Of My Soul”
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