Cradle
Cradle 
 sexual-assault-awareness stories
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mnamangay
mnamangay hobbyist, book collector and cat lover
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
In the chilly night of November, Do you remember?

Cradle

In the chilly night of November, Do you remember? The cold dripping red, Flowing down, dread?

He slumbers. He murmurs. "Please..." "Stop...Please?"

His fast breaths, His hair, a crown of wreaths; Blends and fades, A dark shadow invades.

He whimpers. He breaks. I held him tight, with all my might.

Memories do fade in time. His doesn't and taste like lime - Painful and sour, Tangy and dour.

He hurts. He battles, with every remembrance, of a haunting crimson lance.

" I am here." I whisper to his ear. Softly like powder, Gently like flower.

He hushes. He smiles, In my warm embrace, In my blanket of lace.

A cradle, I'm to him, A house of hope without dim; Praying for his wounds to mend, Dreaming of our better days ahead.

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