Child-like footprints, bloodied & sparse, leading the way like
breadcrumbs to a darkened corner where she sits huddled against the darkness
where she feels the walls closing in on her.
The sticky crimson marks her face as it drenches her hands, while her
blackened eye acts as more than just a reason… an excuse… a way out.
But the red pool beckons inviting her into its sinful depths.
And all you long for is the embrace of a lost love to feel the imagined
arms encircle you, to have the cold dank emptiness dissolve into blackness…
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