Rehinged

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Her blood trails slowly down the wall
As the hands reach, grab after me.
Are they hands? What is that cold—
Wait, that's the metal of Mum's old
Knife. That's what they grab and want,
As if I really am that errant.
Kill myself? What good would that do?
Take it—I took it from Mum, too.
You might question my sanity,
But her blood still cools in the hall.

©2007

Inspired by the linked digital painting by Melanie Delon. I believe it was entitled Madness, but I can't find verification of that, now.

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Author's Note:

Probably says something about me that this is one of my first poems...and my favorite of the ones I wrote in that class.

This Wattpad edition is dedicated to @mizzbliz, whose poem reminded me of the reasons I wrote this one.


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