Sickness

August 27, 2008
By Jenna Bower, Scottsville, NY

You wreak black
like nightfall.
You words are
dark and sharp.
You spear hearts
to see them bleed.
You run wild
with the sun
which so willingly
burns you.
Your harsh words
have never echoed
so clear and sound
with the wind.
Your words dug
gashes in the moon
and light the sky.
Dark looms and
has never hesitated.
We wonder why.


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