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Plasma

Pain holds my hand and won't let go,

I blister at his touch, walk weeping

by his side and wake to his embrace.

Pain holds my hand.

 

Pain holds my hand and won't let go,

I weep beside the river, step into its waters

begging for relief, Pain looks on, he

holds my hand.

 

From blisters ooze our blood and plasma,

down our hands, onto our feet. Pain says

to me: Do you wish now to escape? I know

not what to say. Mute, I hold his hand.

 

Pain holds my hand, he never lets me go.

I writhe and weep and finally look

into his bloodshot eyes; for he is weeping too,

Pain holds my hand, he weeps for me.

 

We walk three days through deserts dry,

Pain holds my hand. From my blood he draws

the poisons of my sins. Pain holds my hand,

he weeps for me.

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Written by
masikanicrocodile
Kenyan
Published
Jun 17, 2013
Lines·Words
20·150
Permission

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