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Terri Faloney Feb 2011
Pieces of me crash to the floor
Red clouds my sight
Crawling streams of sorrow leave my eyes dry
Shriveled up I lay
Curled in a corner like torn leaves
Broken
Terri Faloney Feb 2011
They scratch
They harden with the cold
A shield for tips
A haven for dirt
They scratch away the souls they meet
Like a bingo card, they scratch to compete
Blotting out the sun
Shielding our eyes
They scratch out our words
Our hopes
Our dreams
They are the holders of life
A source of evolution
Fingernails

— The End —