Friday, November 30, 2012

Blood and Bone

   The blood stains the hands
and flows freely on. Crimson
never-ending slips through
the bars of flesh and bone.
   Empty chasms stand against
the frail shield of humanity.
The depths of which cannot be
counted or healed.
   Past these imprisoning walls
floods the weary soul. Onward
flies the desperate spirit,
stopping not to see life.

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