February 28, 2010
By Sarahnade GOLD, Bella Vista, Arkansas
Sarahnade GOLD, Bella Vista, Arkansas
15 articles 3 photos 10 comments

I am a missionary
In a place called home
I cling to the sanctuary
That I label as my room

I have to take flight
So to my room I find
I am relieved of your sight
From my tears and unkind

I remain a shadow
Despite all my pleas
I cower under the pillow
While your wound still bleeds

I peer up to look
At your bloodied face
I lived, but you took
My life from this place

The author's comments:
Completely fiction. But very gruesome reality.

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