The Fight

It is always a slow touch

A warm gentle caress

With welcoming disguise

It sneaks deep inside

and finds a dirty corner

To sow it's filthy seed

Expunging every hue

And sitting on your back

Furnishing the voids in life

Until it's colors show true

Then tossed in the storm

Hanging to the last intent

Yet wanting to let go

Stunned by the simplicity

Of all that you once knew

Memories before you met

And all you have let go

Staring deep into the dark

And glaring through the cracks

Sleep becomes a fugitive

Thoughts won't let you rest

Wondering how this happened

This sick and ugly mess

Something simply started

From such a warm caress

That only meant best

The End

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