blame
by T.M. Gray

Around, all around, the shadows gather
growing cold like the reaper's scythe
falling against my naked soul.
It just crushes me;
my blood drips
to the broken ground.
I call your name
while death hovers close,
waiting to close in.

Even now my cries falls upon uncaring ears.
This is because of you....

(c) 2000 T. M. Gray, All Rights Reserved

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(c)2000-2004, T. M. Gray. All Rights Reserved.

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