A Rush of Bliss

Shadows clouding our steps, casting a spark

of doubt. We bleed fatal mistakes, the pain

seeping into the pages. Tie the chain

around our pitiful necks, leaving marks

like battle scars. We struggle in the dark,

searching for words in the alphabet rain.

It pours and soaks our skin, leaving a stain

on our minds, permanent, like a birthmark.

Yet that blemish is no longer flaming.

The noose is loosening. We do not bleed.

Instead, the rain blesses us with a kiss

and suddenly, we have perfect aiming.

We catch that moment, our minds are now freed,

falling forwards into a rush of bliss.