It’s the word of hurt.

The gasp of pain.

It’s lower than dirt.

More of it in which the world will gain.

It’s the prick of a finger to see blood.

It’s the damage after a massive flood.

It’s the slit on thy wrist you see.

It’s the true inner demon of thee.

It’s the fire of a burning building.

It’s the one word that entwines everything.

It’s the loud scream in the darkness of the night.

It’s the bloody ending of a fight.

One day the world will be in silence.

The reason for that will be violence.Β Β©

Please do not copy my poems without permission as they are original.

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