Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Clean Hands

 The words that aren’t spoken
Tends to hurt the most
Diminishing the one thing
We’ve been holding so close
Can’t help but wonder; Why me,
In the present, its so hard to be seen
But next time you want to judge
Who and Where I’ve been
Before you point that finger,
Make sure your hands are clean


© Lisa Goycochea

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