Knife And Wings

that which is true
hurts like a knife

but only for a while

come to think of it
the hurt
has wings
pain has white
feathers
and red plumes

those wings fly
swiftly to set you free
makes you warm
comforts you
to a wool of warmth
on the onset of
a very cold night
when you find yourself
mulling again
on your empty arms.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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