STEVE
MANOLIS
THERE IS NO
DARKNESS
The
torment washes me,
Much
like the coldness of my pool
In
april,
Or the
dark of midnight
The
lights of a million pinpricks
Wash
the sky into brilliance
Yet the
darkness is there
A
constant
Yet I
invite this torment
It
lives with me in the corners
Tucked
away in recesses
My mind
knows no other sensation
It
writes these words
It
becomes me
The
passion,
The
angst,
The
bitterness of life
The
sweet taste of morning
It is
raw, as these words
It
punches through
Leaves
the scars
That
become me
It is
the shards of glass
Drawing
out pools of blood
Coagulating
into this poem
This
life
The
torment washes me
And I
am cleansed
COPYRIGHT STEVE MANOLIS 2015.
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