11 May
She stands in the light.
My fingers are outstretched towards her
Stretching, straining, so close...
But she is beyond my reach,
Basking in the sunlight
with bliss written upon her face.

He stands in the dark.
My feet are itching to run from him
fleeing, flying, far away...
But he will surely follow me,
Creeping in the shadows,
with thirst etched on his face.

She will never escape him,
bound by invisible shackles to the Past.
He will never relent,
gripped by the desire of the Now.

He is the Disgust, the Disgrace, and the Dishonor,
the Guilt and the Gross,
the Wicked, and Worthless, and Wrong.

He is the Anxiety, the Anguish, and the Ache,
the Scandal and the Stigma,
the Torment, and Torture, and Trash.

He is the Heartache, the Humiliation, and the Hurt,
the Blackness and the Blueness,
the Pollution, and Putdowns, and Pain.
He is the Shame.

And She is... 


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