A fix
A cure
Is all you were
A salve to ease the pain
Though I must admit
Before I knew
The wound was there again
A plague
A sickness
Its what you are
A draft of poisoned wine
The power of which started quite small
But fermented over time
Undoubtedly I'm to blame
This wound I've brought myself to
Yet I can't rid me of this tearing shame
To know the weapon used was you
Monday, July 12, 2010
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