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Jacob Ryan Rosendale
Poems
Apr 2011
Doubtlessly Saint Nightshade
It can't be easy
being the patron saint of sinners
but ****** all if you don't make it seem that way.
You look so good in blue,
as you serenely sway along the streets
touching the eyes of blind
just like Christ's own messenger.
The dirt and dust that coats us all
never seems to stick to you,
the disease that cripples us
you cast off with a twist of your
white hand.
You're silhouetted form
against the wall,
cast from an acrid fire
gave me some kind of hope.
A soft whisper of a word
that you produced from nowhere
made me feel like I could be you.
Wars seem to die between
your lips
and so could I.
You might as well have wings.
But where are you tonight?
Written by
Jacob Ryan Rosendale
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