Poem No. 17

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Blade Of Silver

I grasp the blade of silver,
I tighten our hold,
I remember not being questioned,
when the blade was sold.
I open the door to a sea of red,
Feeling it rush towards my head.
Flooding and dropping to the bathroom ground,
Dripping all around,
Slowly without a sound,
I let out a cough,
Light,
And soft,
Breathing in the red water,
I'm so sorry my daughter...
I take my last breath,
Seeping calming into death.

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