Darkest Hour

This: my darkest hour:
I know  not
What  I am for; with
All tossed overboard, I
Have  nothing left
Within, without, all is
Sold and old with
No  hope to hold onto.
My  flower won't
Bloom  in this dark place
We  are both dying
Of the cold, withering
From  a diet of
Life without the blood.

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