Broken bottles scar the floor
from whatever scuffle
happened here before.
Tainted red with blood,
booze runs its course,
a drunken flood.
Is anyone left unscathed
by these tragedies?
Anyone saved?
All these wounds scar the skin
and still run deeper,
right through our kin.
Broken images fill her head
from moments passed
when she should be dead.
Tainted black with malice
her soul sinks deeper,
her heart so callous.
Is anyone left unscathed?
Autumn Siders 