The printed card

A locked house holds a thought
It floated up high and picked a spot
Then they came and they saw
Oh the irony of it all

The light that dawned was so dark
Couldn't see through the words that were
Then they spoke and they spewed
Minds so wrought with prejudiced eyes

A fleeting hour with a friend long gone
Gifts a smile and a printed card
Now it's gone - a castaway prop
The price to pay for a little healing

The hurt and tears are here to stay
A pink void framed with wasteful hate
But the whisper still lingers on
In the soul it flaunts the thought

Ultimately...I'm responsible