April 18, 2008
She shook as they placed their hands on her
To suck out what had been injected
Deep in the veins she longed to slice open.

Cry until you can fixate but feel nothing.
The life drains from the eye sockets;
Trails of purple burn holes in my heart.

You wanted to be drowned by white
And rise, blinding me; you called it a gift.
Is she laughing behind the cracks in the glass?

Once pure, now tainted: a blank canvas for chaos.
She held me in the dark, but she was merely
Walking on the edge, earning something to repent.

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