Blood On Blood Poem by Nicholas Peter

Blood On Blood



Another quiet death,
deep and rooted,
a mighty tree,
growing in the dark.

A miniature war,
gunshot after gunshot,
getting up after each wound,
how do you do it?

That smile is a ruse,
that's painted on a sad canvas,
covered in pastels of black and red,
another little picture-perfect falsity.

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