Muriel Ruth Emerson


cold blood


I sit in this pitiful thing we call earth
Surrounded by doubts
Surrounded by the past
By fear
By all the things that leave me alone in this room
Sharp knifes coming from all angles
Stabbing my skin
Piercing my soul
Until there is nothing left to be killed
But the lifeless body lying in cold blood

Submitted: Wednesday, November 28, 2012

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