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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #1723403
The process of renewing oneself.
Standing within
A glass world crashing down
Reaching to grab the pieces
Only renders a red hand

Her world starts to fall
She grasps for solid ground
Regrets of a wounded yesterday
Leave her crying without a sound

Conceited ignorance
Burns each step she takes
Her trail stained with pain
She reaches but does not wake

Oh how she aches
To clean her past
Oh how she dreams
To retrieve her last

But each grasp she takes
To pull herself to land
Still only renders
A red and bloody hand

With nothing left to ruin
And nothing left to take
She gives it all up
Her hope and her faith

She empties herself
Of everything of worth
And leaves with what she has
She repairs her wounded hand
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