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WiltingMoon Jan 2016
Blood.
Its stains the ground.
With a devils sign.
It has no need for a specified shape.
For the evil to be seen.
Just the splatter,
The pool,
The staining drop.
Of its sickling Scarlett hue.
It paints an un-washable picture.
On all colors that shine bright.
That is why the chilling color of black.
Is what I chose.
No evil can be seen,
When contrasted together.
Black is an invincible shade.
To to the devils touch.
For seen as blood.
WiltingMoon Jan 2016
My head is now feeling light,
And I am slowing going to sleep in the night.

The deed is done,
I know I have not won.

My eye lids are closing so slow,
Capturing the last of life's show.

I am starting to feel free,
Accepting what is to be.

I will go with a smile,
And watch over you for a while.

Love for all,
As I take my last fall.
WiltingMoon Jan 2016
A fire
Burns,
Within your eyes.
With ash that
Falls,
Along with your
Cries.
WiltingMoon Jan 2016
Time does not exist...
Time is a blinding mist...
It's a lie that we all follow...
Forever asking for time to borrow...
We are to always live in today...
Never to have our say...
With a tomorrow that never shows...
As the wind of yesterday blows...
Time is a guideline for everything...
For how long our life can sing...
So time does not exist...
Its nothing a face on your wrist...
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