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Hurt

Hurt is the color of a rain cloud,
Just before the storm.
It sounds just like you fingernails,
Scratching on a blackboard.
It tastes like a sore mouth,
That will always continue to bleed.
Smells like a fresh cut rose,
Raw, pure, and sweet.
Hurt looks like a dying man,
Left all alone.
It makes you feel hopeless,
That someday will never come.



Copyright ©2003 Crystal Lynn Burns