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Darkness

by Cynthia A. Jensen

Taken,

Under a shining sun

I sit here quietly in the dark,

My hands behind me.

The light, I remember

Bright and powerful

It took me a moment

To realize they were here for me.

My memories are few

Hands grabbing, pulling me.

I found myself

Scared and shaky

Now, here, alone,

In a dark space

I wait for the unknown

The fear is real.

I take a deep breath

To settle myself

And memories

Come flooding to my brain.

My thoughts

Become clear, knowing

And I realize,

What have I done?

I remember now

Crimson splashes and piercing screams.

Was it me, the victim?

Or I, the murderer?


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