Monday, March 29, 2010

Something Out of Nothing

Following the hand prints that marked up the walls,
The blood no longer looked as it should,
But much like paint that had splattered over the fence,
The day the it all happened,
Felt like a flash before everything was over,
And still the days flow by as if nothing happened,
And the hand prints still dripped of red paint,
As if something had been done

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