And her blood ran through her
but it was not pure.
It held the faintest
sense of darkness
that she'd never known before.
She was grasped in it,
mesmerized and blind.
She was left numb
and tired; wasted.
The darkness
brought forth power,
brough anger,
tension,
paranoia,
doubt.
Yet, her body
embraced it openly,
and begged for more.
Her senses
were wiped out
and rubbed away.
And her spirit
was tired
of fighting.
So she wavered
on the line
of light
and darkness.
This was her call
for assistance.
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The Poet's Writing
It's my songs, my stories, my poems... Enjoy. <3