Joy (cithra) wrote,
Joy
cithra

  • Mood:

nothing left untouched

no item the blood will not defile
pity it isn't holy - salvation
would come easy in this flood

oh, hands that worry
hands that carve the markers
hands letting in the light

like shuttered things
wandering the night -
what do we fight against

to wake so torn and weeping?
Tags: poem
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