Blood
running
down
my knuckles.
My feet embedded with glass.
The
sun bathed
my face
I
n
t
h
e
running
r
a
i
n
moments like this proves to me that not only that
hell is real
But that you don’t have to die to go there.
I bathe in the
sins of m y enemies
Consum ing their eyes
I n b l i n d n e s s
I walk away
Through a g
ray brick wall
Leaving my f
lesh and bon
es
behind.
Staring
at my reflection
In the
dark skies
A thunderbolt
Silhouettes my soul
Over a small
crowded town
Of bitter witnesses.
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