Healed

A bit of a pain in the arse
Already at the brink
The time clock is at rush hour
But the heart still beats

I look up at the sky
Seeking for the signal of solutions
The haze blur the hills
The fog blurs my vision

Broken bones
Toiled muscles
Wamble stomach
Saddle sore

Oh I was broken
But i hold the time card
And i go far down the road to recovery

I tunnel through the forest of demise
And the incision was healed.

©Ibratosyn'18

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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