She built me up,
than broke me down,
to a poet without words.
The sentence for the man of death,
when screamed is still not heard.
Painters paint by seen of sight,
but for the blind the colors stay.
So far away like dark of night,
and beauty cant remain.
Pounds of drums can cover screams,
upon the battle fields.
Grass can grow to bring disguise,
of graves that battles yield.
She built me up,
than broke me down.
Tis when I learned,
tears have a sound.
saint cynosure ( Ken Bennight )
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sound-of-tears/
