Rainy Wood

It smells like the woods soaked in rain, Earthy and dirty, With the sound of the soil’s watery gain, A deep inhale of breath. The shadow of the clouds rests heavy here, Drowning all in grey – So all the green leaves slowly disappear, Fading into twilight. But whether clouds grow thicker or sun lower, …

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Fade

I do not like how things fade – they fade too fast for me; I couldn’t dream of a thing made of eternal stuff and ardor. Slow the soul loses its luster; it cannot halt gravity – The downward force crushing her, and the blood drips down. That blood lost was life and truth, all …

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Hardly

I can hardly give voice to all the little pinpricks of horror that make up the moments hour by the hour, and finally bleed our soul dry: from a war waged without remorse, to an abused child without recourse; from nightmares that haunt the little, to teeth that bite agony; from the life that ends …

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