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Sunday, February 1, 2009


I felt the blood pouring out from my eyes
It was criminal and exhilarating.
It was sorrow and pain.
But it was tolerable because I understood the emotions behind my outpour.
Every day was a struggle; every day is a struggle.
The mold is broken each day and the mold is remade.

May be there is a light out there and a hand to hold when I am feeling down.
I do not think that the light and the hand are within reach for a very long time.
But the struggle continues.

I saw the blood at my feet.
I saw the maroon.
I saw the black.
I saw my face.

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