poet Blanche Hardin

Blanche Hardin

Why Me? , Why This?

Beyond this peircing pain,
Of cutting my vein,
What can I do? ,
Besides loving you.
A little more I get weaker,
Pouring his blood in a beaker.
the drinking of blood makes me stronger,
What I've wanted takes longer.
Love is what I'm far from,
Hating you until it is done.

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Poem Submitted: Friday, February 29, 2008

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Langston Hughes

Dreams



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