My Armor Is Harder Than Your Heartbreak Poem by Lois doyle

Standing on a raw passionless grave,
Listening to winds that tell stories of the brave.
Kindiling the fire that went out long ago.
Breathing out winter and covering the world in snow.
What made you alive now makes you dead,
Tampered with nature and painting the world red.
My armor is harder than your heartbreak.

Kissing the danger that follows behind you,
Wonder insignificant as to think you could be those few.
Inside a rundown barn lays a broken piece of God's world,
And sits a child in yonder and curled.
Whimper, whimper from the trees and the blood,
The dance designed from beauty is crawling in mud.
But My armor is harder than your heartbreak.

The rhyme of the note covered in old love,
Whispers of magnificant from the flyers above.
With the yonder barn and your own brothered snow,
Listen to the wind that made this flow.
Rain is the tears of those who could not cry,
As this world crumbles and dies.
My armor is the trees that flow in the breeze,
And your heartbreak is your fees that lock out my bees.