Red Paint
a poem based on Jim Morrisons tale of accident he witnessed as a young boy.
Red paint encircled the picture,
Of the dying native men.
Lying on the paved road.
Shiver, lifeless, and then:
Their souls ‘freaking out’ and darting around.
Around the fresh corpse, spread on the ground.
Till my soul, like a sponge,
Sucked up their trapped essence.
accepting wise souls.
And removing acceptance.
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