GuestBlogs: Blood is on the Floor |By Mark Payne (@m_r_payne14)

She shouts, begs, cries out loud bleeding upon the floor.

He presses his blade into her, not knowing who it’s for.

She hides for security, out of fear; out of sight. Hears a sound in the night, her shadow quivers full of fright.

Why me, why now; sweat drops from her brow. No more, please sir. Her life sinks to new lows’.

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He commands the stage with presence; with knowledge.

Thinking in his mind the next stage of oppression. They don’t know, they don’t see, what wouldn’t make them proud. Philosophy, psychology the dial points to him.

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Tearing apart a woman’s soul, limb from precious limb.

Along comes a child mixed in colour, mixed in thoughts. He doesn’t care, doesn’t flinch when he cries from all the stings.

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Shouting up towards the Gods, water runs away in floods. The child hides afraid of the dark, alas, the real tragedy is a man who is afraid of the light.

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Blood drips down from the floor “Bang. Bang. Bang” sounds, they knock on the door. He came, he saw but couldn’t ever conquer.

4246151-shadowNo more fear, no more fright. No more crying in the night. No more blood on the floor, only justice; this is the law.

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