Bits of soul are left behind each day,
The price the Piper demands as pay.
Daily the screw is slowly turned.
Daily the match against the skin is burned.
Tears and sweat that must be shed,
Drops of blood the shredded heart has bled
To pool in words upon these crumpled sheaves,
Images, forms, and meaning together weaves.
Some healing physic, some medicine
To soothe raw nerves and psyche to mend
Seek shelter in a quiet sanctuary
To restore the soul with beauty, music, and poetry.
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