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Poetry - Third Year

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Splashes

I'm afraid to close my eyes
I see the things
I wish I could change
the images imprinted on my brain
I see in colour
bright bright red
cold blue fading
like splashes of paint on a
pure white background
no black and white dream
but reality
I hear best when I sleep
my screams are louder
the sirens sharper
I go deaf in the
silence left
between the shots and
the screams
And in my dreams
I die.
  -jk (02/98)

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