Thursday, November 19, 2015

Fear - A Poem

The stained floor;

it continues to bleed no matter how hard I scrub.

It lives.

It thrives.

The blood on my knuckles weaves within it.

A constant reminder

that you'll always come back to haunt me. 


This is an original piece from 2013. I thought it was lost forever. Once lost, now recovered and republished.


Write a blog post inspired by the word: stain

Mama’s Losin’ It


  1. that would haunt me too, nice job. Stopping by from mama kats kelley at the road goes ever ever on

  2. Wow, that's really haunting. You have a wonderful talent for creating a picture!


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