On blood soaked walls
he painted his pain
in shades of scarlet
crying,
on walls worked red
he captured the child
with cries that still
are drying,
on scarlet walls
he hung his hurt
on hooks too high
to handle,
in rooms since then
he sees that shade
still kindling
in the dwindling candle.
All words and drawings by Damien B. Donnelly
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By Miri Elm
Damien B. Donnelly 
This is heart-rending, but beautiful at the same time. I love the rhythm.
Thank you Jane. I was happy how this one turned out
It’s a good one.
Jane is right–the sharpness of the words is balanced by the beautiful flow. (K)