Red Edges
When he came home that night
He could not believe his sight
The sharp and red edges
That took the life
The life of the person he once knew
The life of the person he was used to
The comfort was taken
And this began his breakage
He ran outside that night
And he had that feeling that he might
Run the streets to find a fight
That might block the memory of the sight
But when he found who he was looking for
That person had caused him pain once more
He found him with his own sight
That person he knew that took the life
He looked in the mirror just to see
If he could see his memory
The memory of what used to be
He finally noticed when he said “it was me”.
Copyright © Makayla Janczak | Year Posted 2012
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