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His Stolen Blood
June 25, 2009
I sit in shadows in the dark,
For on my soul there rests a mark.
The scarlet blood that stains my hand,
Is dripping because of my command.
How can I breath when he does not?
What gave me the right to take that shot?
How could I hate with such force,
Then weep with sorrow and remorse?
© Anonymous
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3 articles 1 photo 1 comment
Amazing piece.
You are very talented..
I would love to read more of your work. Keep it up.