were it not for your screams, I would not hear your pain
crying not for me, but for someone who does care
ask not why I do not rush to your aide
a slow death becomes you
no one can see you due to your soulessness
deserving of nothing yet receiving everything
caution is thrown into the sea
down beneath your feet
allow others to see you open
close your mind to the hate you possess
life is available to you
embrace it before you die
©1998-2009 Claretta Taylor Webb. All Rights Reserved
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