Bleh with Barry

Random with a cynical twist of lime.

Postmortem

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My blood writes my history,

Each droplet hacked into a clean

White linen speaks of my plight.

Crimson tears will not be cried

When this shell is collapsing

Into oblivion.

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Written by barryr22

August 18, 2010 at 8:14 am

Posted in Poetry

Tagged with , ,

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