Knowing Hands

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Knowing Hands

Darkness consumes me,
Eating away the light a little bit at a time.
Stripping away the protection
I worked so hard to build.
Clawing at my sanity,
Shredding it slowly.
Letting it all just drift away.
As if it meant nothing to no one.
To no one but me.
The screams being cried
Are barely heard
By anyone at all,
Tho to my ears
They are clear as day.
For they are my screams.
Torn from my throat by a knowing hand.

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In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

Bloodraven’s Poems (5)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Happily Ever After 0
Freedom Returned 3
Knowing Hands 0
Screaming endlessly 5
Untitled for now 2