My Recollection
They heard the shrillness of my cry,
So they ran to the door with tear stained cheeks.
No knowledge of the blood stained wall,
No knowledge of what happened at all.
And I with my loss of recollection,
in the pool of red where my fingers bled.
Now the white wall is crimson,
and the blood flows from my twisted nose
free out the window my assaulter goes.
Still the mirror is in its place
a reminder that I survived, we nod.
A reminder that we're alive,
preserved by God.
Copyright © Crista Gorman | Year Posted 2011
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