Knowing Hands

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Knowing Hands

Darkness consumes me,
Eating away the light a little bit at a time.
Stripping away the protection
I worked so hard to build.
Clawing at my sanity,
Shredding it slowly.
Letting it all just drift away.
As if it meant nothing to no one.
To no one but me.
The screams being cried
Are barely heard
By anyone at all,
Tho to my ears
They are clear as day.
For they are my screams.
Torn from my throat by a knowing hand.

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The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Poet (1803-1882)

Bloodraven’s Poems (5)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Happily Ever After 0
Freedom Returned 3
Knowing Hands 0
Screaming endlessly 5
Untitled for now 2