I thought you’d be the healing touch
But you shot at the wounds I showed
While I was limping on a crutch
Even as I begged, wept and bowed
I had to rummage my tool box
And pull out forceps of logic
To extract the bullets of a sly fox
As I stomped on “love”, aka magic
I walked again, in spite of you
Rebuilt the faith, squandered at your altar
Carved out paths, fresh and new
Thank you, for the lessons and the deep scar