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About the Poem

We don't make a sound as we look into our own minds to find out where death comes from...

Loss

Cries of red death
Hollering down the varnished hallways of life
Screams and teardrops
Only to follow death
We are the red death
We make it our own
We hold it close to us
We cradle it in our arms
We want to near it
We bury it our hearts
We add it to our lives and decision
And in the end we crave the sadness
that we bring upon ourselves
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1 Visitor Comments

Melissa
I liked your poem

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