| The sun bleeds red through the paper of eyelids and I seep salt over the cracks of words; the pain sits in the bones of me, aches in rainstorms. Remorse twists in the thunder, flawed language fails hailing confusion in spheres of fury, hate is relative – thaws, for snowflakes are all different. Sonia Hendy-Isaac
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If you have any comments on this poem, Sonia Hendy-Isaac would be
pleased to hear them.
