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White little dove

Poetry By: Chrysta
Young adult



The water runs down,Down her white flesh...White dove,never white again.



Submitted:Jun 17, 2009    Reads: 80    Comments: 3    Likes: 3   


The water runs down,

Down her white flesh,

What does she do,

With razor in hand?

Her tears are black,endless and long.

Chipped black nails scratch her face,

Here comes the red,

Down it goes,

Down her chest,

Like all ther rest.

White hand like an injured dove,

It holds the razor with a wrong kind of love.

Her throat exposed,

Weak; yielding flesh,

Silver cuts through white,

Here comes the red,

Down it goes,

Down her chest,

Like all the rest,

Her life down the drain.





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