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Awake
February 20, 2010
She choked on crimson
and bathed in scarlet
Her life reducing to nothing
but colors
Black
Red
Black
Blue
Black
White
B
l
a
n
k
When all else had failed her
she could still
hear that voice.
Mindless barking from a place that no longer knew sanity.
Scars are deep and they tell stories,
Long tales that are mothers to the scars
Memories fade but are always close,
foes from birth and scriptures on her soul.
But death sings a sweet melody
a lullaby
Yet sleep
never comes . .
© Paula B., Katy, TX
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