Bed of Roses, <br />bed of Thorns, <br />bed of lepers ashes. <br />So many lye and wallow in, <br />what bears on them as scratches. <br />Empty tears, <br />hallowed screams, <br />burdens for their mother. <br />And if by crosses which are burned, <br />never will they seize their turn. <br />For all that is, <br />for all its worth, <br />for any bit thats given. <br />Some are cursed that walk this earth, <br />until their death from day of birth.<br /><br />saint cynosure ( Ken Bennight )<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-cursed-4/
