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Shy of Oblivion

Poetry By: Kale Youngblood
Poetry


it doesn't rhyme, but i'm not sure what else i would call it.


Submitted:Jan 29, 2010    Reads: 116    Comments: 5    Likes: 4   


My hands are stained. Yet again. Your blood lies upon them. As the cardinal sins run through my mind. Your blood falls from my finger tips, finding it's waste at floor's end. I play puppet with your heart. As your lust runs through my mind. Your love falls from my finger tips, finding it's waste at floor's end. Out of my reach. Succumbed. Withering away into the Night's black labyrinth. As The Counterpart runs through my mind. Kallen falls from my finger tips, finding her waste at floor's end. Her end a degree shy of Oblivion.





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