Not Just A Poem
Doused in an ironic blood pool With idle eyes and empty cries, She who watches is but a fool She turns her head from the sight Hoping to see a distant light Her tears fall in streams Although it%u2019s just dreams But she is only drug Deeper into the night Twisted and knurled she only fought Mind games played in a mind So distraught With nimble fingers The pain still lingers
Fringed on the edge of thought.
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