A.J. Walker

writerer

August 2024

Writing Words. A Worry

Writing Words. A Worry.

I'm writing words which may bloom into a poem or a song

But most likely they will end as a trash

But maybe if printed those words could decay to mulch and feed a perfect flower

More likely it will help a weed, to destroy what lived before.

Rotting words to kill what already lived.

Writing words with the handbrake off. It’s always been a worry.

This here page is destined to feed the weeds again. I am sorry.

The Bruise That Never Fades

The Bruise

You left me scarred with a bruise that never fades

Left me in the gutter hidden in the shade

You told me that you loved me once, then said that was a lie

That you were just filling time and I was just a lay

Wrong time, wrong place, right face; wrong woman.

And now that bruise wont heal

Your legacy a war crime,

When you just walked away

Your legacy a war crime and this bruise that never fades.