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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Other · #1235137
Because sometimes we grow up with monsters
Why do you still haunt me?
Dreams of broken flowers in my bed
How many times must I beg
Till I no longer see you dead
The images of blood on the wall
Your voice still in my ears
The gunshot reverberates
Why call me here to watch this,
Why say you love just before your death?

I am screaming again,
Tortured, All my fears return
Bullets burn, My body broken
My spirit has fled.
Is this the love you were seeking
This blood on my hands
This blood on my hands

She says I should go with them
These two men in the hotel lobby.
Eleven is a popular age and they've paid
The room is dark and dirty
And she'll let them hurt me
But I've been thru this before
and this knife is sharp and small
And I smile as it meets flesh.

I am screaming again,
Tortured, All my fears return
I burn, My body broken
My spirit has fled.
Is this What you were seeking
This blood on my hands
This blood on my hands

Ten years, the fear resides
And my pride won't let me waver
Little sister begs "Come over"
Momma is drinking again
Hours later when I got the call
An accident, heard her fall
Sixteen and dead, it's your fault
She says, You weren't here
You should have been here.

I am screaming again,
Tortured, All my fears return
She burns, I am broken
My spirit has fled.
Is this this your mother's love?
This blood on your hands
This blood on my hands
This blood on our hands

© Copyright 2007 Jane Conder (broken73 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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