Black, the shade of a mistake,
a mark seared into the canvas of memory.
Black, the cloak of the unknown,
a stranger crafting violence in silence.

Black, stark against her white flesh,
a scar etched deep in the soft light of innocence.
Black, the pulse of instinct,
raw, untamed, a trigger pulled in haste.

Black, the shadow of a cage,
a prisoner’s hope dissolving like breath in the cold.
Black, the echo of a ****,
shaped by the past, lingering like smoke.

Black, the frost of tears frozen in the night,
where no stars dare to shine.
Black, the rain pouring endlessly,
washing sins into streams of darkness.

Black, the weight of it all,
pressed into the folds of the soul.