borednosin

As one clentches his fist covered in blood
the day as he knows it ends
grasping a reality he cannot phathom
dripping down his arms
is a thick crimson red
grabbing a leg
leaving only a bloody trail
love lost
dreams escape
flowers die
a putred stench fills the nasal passage
trying to fly
clipped wings
still grounded to reality
an empty bed
a negitive...
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