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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Occult >> ID #1090400 |
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Red Moon
The mirror casts a shadow on my face Your shadow Through the shards of shattered glass floating over my fingers I curse my night eyes, my scarlet words my broken visage on the floor wondering why I had to grow up looking like you Hard to imagine the blood on my hands holds any weight compared to yours My sins are closer to the surface – they paint my skin black and red, earthy, burnt, Traitor But still I cannot hold a candle to you How far must my tainted hands reach before they find you? What else do I have to lose?
© Copyright 2006 Shei Rowan (UN: annikamla at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Shei Rowan has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |