Cleansing - Poem by Sam Hughff
As the sky grows dark,
and the wind picks up its speed,
I walk outside to smell the air
never taking heed;
of what lurks behind those doors,
only smelling the air.
Icy droplets fall on my face,
the hairs on my neck stand straight,
indian style I sit on the ground,
embracing this foretold fate;
of the life that will always be.
Perfume leaks from the flowers,
sweet and heavy,
it clings to the air,
thunder claps in the distance,
the wind now blows my hair.
Wet is my naked skin,
as I breathe in the cold air,
drenched is my tainted soul,
that fuels my despair
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