Writing Every Day's Wrongs

I ought to write every day

I wish this thought would go away

Do what I think, not do and say

Then you could read me every day.

They say that writing clears your mind

Of things which should be left behind

Unfortunately love is blind

Re-living past wrongs is unkind.

Some things are better left unsaid

Unwritten, buried with the dead

Will writing really clear your head?

Move on's what mother often said

So now I see what holds me back

The barrier, the will I lack

I have exposed that fatal fact

That child's ear thought holds my hand back.