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Scars and night.


I have surrendered
To this night,
And I am not
Ready to fight,
A battle with conscience
Of unaware signs.

Like a thug
It snugs
Into my deepest scars,
To check what is
Open ajar,
Like a bleeding wound
Needing tending
From the roon.

I look up
At the roof
If not sky,
Calling to me 
Through fog
And smeared cloth,
Telling of colors anew
About which I never knew.

This night feels heavy
With a tightening grip,
Invisible to all
Yet holding every tip,
Of my dripping thoughts
And yielding wounds,
Awaiting an arrival,
But not so soon.

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