Thursday, January 21, 2010

The Source

I put your mark on my arm to remind me of the source. The prejudice you carried spread like a swarm of locus. It consumed all that was pure and left nothing but skeletons. Your bleeding hands pulled me towards you and stained my essence. So now I were your mark like a scar to remind me that I'm not bound by hate. And that the path I choose will be from a brighter source.

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