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Jul 2011
Quick, fast, sharp, and pure
Welling, swelling, flowing red
dark and lovely
crimson deep
the kiss of a dying rose.

The silent weeping of a wilting flower
bringing the final snap
that ends a life.

Dark secrets must not be told,
else utter madness descend.

Unpredictable, lonely,
thrown in on one's self.
Pointless fear, insane...
alive?
Or already consumed by anger.

A dark abyss, forever empty,
where love is lost, confused.
It cannot be found, yet cannot die...

Fading from memory.
Sara Ackermann
Written by
Sara Ackermann  23/F/New Richmond, Wisconsin
(23/F/New Richmond, Wisconsin)   
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