Poem 21

Blood gushed from her palm

     the brightest of reds

she ever did see

      making strong bubbling streams across dark brown lines etched         in tender flesh telling prophesies hushed from birth

A foolish mistake, a thoughtless act

The cause of her distress, the subtle nothingness of life

      her focus still withdrawn from the world

As blood drips unto pristine white

Saturating napkins galore

     And it still didn’t make anything right


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