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Tuesday, June 2, 2009


Blood Stained Dove
No, I'm not depressed. I'm actually pretty happy right now. I wrote this poem last night after a very stressful day. Still, it's my latest poem.
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Blood Stained Dove

Why is it that life is a constant struggle?
You're always fighting for something. Fighting for your right to live, to be happy, to love.
Fighting to achieve your goals, and sore like a dove.
Only that dove is stained with blood, the blood of those you conquered to get this far.
Why is it that smiles never replace tears,
Why is it that courage never out smarts fears?
And, honestly, what is it that we've been fighting for all these years?
A reminder to breath lingers in my ears,
But it does not out scream my falling tears.
What do you do when you can not rise without another falling?
What do you do when time seems to come closer and closer.
Squeezing the life out of you as it waltzes foreword.
Never looking back.
Until finally it reaches you,
And steals your last breath.
But what do those left behind do?
Will time give an antidote to the poison it exhales?
Or will we be left to dwell here,
Near this hallow shell,
Of the person we knew so well.

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