PROMISES

                        PROMISES


        Blood of a man spills' from a wound created,


           From a wounded hear runs' blood unseen.


       Broken will be our spirits' by those we trust,


        These are the words' of men with no morality.


        Promises are made with the slip of a tongue,


         Easily spoken from minds' without thought.


         Hearts' and souls', those with no dreams',


  They take what they can, from their hands' they squeeze.


       Promises, promises, words' with no character,


     From those with no heart, broken, always broken.


                      Keith Garrett 

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