Frail Phase: a poem By John McKinley Pride Jr
This phase of life seems so frail to touch, a crushing wait that smothers some, but helps others breathe again.
It all comes together or it all falls apart, each day different from the start.
Kind hands that help scared buy past abuse, yet the ones who are unmasked wont waste there time.
A phase in your mind, but it’s something that happens on occasion.
A crushed heart, a tattered soul and skin bruised by a malevolent fist of hate.
This phase, just like the next, is to forget about and always hope that they would regret all that they have done.
By John McKinley Pride, Jr.