When Heart Is Still And Will Never Heal Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

Wondering how to imagine flowers
in a city covered with concrete towers.
There are so many signs that lack truth,
when heart is still and will never heal.

I walk the confines of my walls at night,
only sensing the world out of sight.
What am I searching for, I do wonder,
as confusing images blink on and off.

What does it matter if I never find
the answers to questions so unkind?
With poignant malice so pronounced
do the crawling lice stand so proud.

I sense that I shall always remain
filled with dread that fosters pain.
Internally the wheels will grind
as I try and cease their rolling.

I understand the midnight moon,
for it signifies my private womb.
There are so many signs that lack truth,
when heart is still and will never heal.