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Oct 2010
The darkness is a cradle.
The blankness is a cocoon of nothingness.
Being lost here is a relief.
Nothing hurts here.
The last lingering taste of blood fades.
The phantom breeze clears the burnt smell.
Lost thoughts drift away.
Lost memories skip just out of reach.
I am lost.
The dreams of fire and blood blink out.
The darkness is a cradle.
Nothing hurts here.
I am lost.

cc2010
Written by
Cindra Carr
1.8k
 
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