Snow White Dove

March 20, 2008
The gleam of the blade reflects the gleam of their eyes
shows nothing of the darkness of their souls.
Cold steel numbs my hands while
my desolate surroundings
numbs my soul.
The girl’s skeletal appearance shouts from
the tormentors,
and their shouts brought tears to her eyes.
Then- the butterflies in my stomach died and
I hoped they went somewhere nice.
The mess I’ve made suddenly snaps
into focus,
as though I finally found what was different in the second picture.
I feel a weight,
down on my heart.
I may have lifted it,
if only
I had someone there to help.
Eventually I help her escape the tormenters and
we ride a snow-white dove to

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