I, Who Poem by Edwina Reizer
I, Who
I, who write verse every day,
rather that I could take pain away.
I'd put down the pen without a thought
and trade it away for the pain that was brought
to you.
I, who write songs every day,
rather that I could have you say
'I'm well, I'm well. I'm good again.'
I'd give it all up, these songs, this pen
for you.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Topic(s) of this poem: pain
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8/28/2026 3:30:48 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
