Thomas Conner

The Dark - Poem by Thomas Conner

As I sit in this dark
This gun wanting to bark

The blood flows from his wrist
People see me bleeding

Do they stop to help me?
They don’t feel to me bleeding

They only worry about
Their problems not me bleeding

Not my pain they can’t handle
Tom’s pain or me bleeding

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, November 11, 2007

Poem Edited: Sunday, April 24, 2011

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