Direction without sure understanding.
A reminder of bad hope.
Beautiful, blue, lonely eyes
could seem devastated.
But grey love feels relieved.
Children would chance it alone
without ever settling for something lost
instead.
No melancholy child wants dark days.
Pregnant, I wake lost without sight.
I realise blood upsets anything.
Something other than red should seek
out one high being.
No flowing would feel right,
just down instead.
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