The Pit

Ivan Goran Kovacic (1913–1943)

BLOOD is my daylight, and darkness too.               
Blessing of night has been gouged from my cheeks                   
Bearing with it my more lucky sight.               
Within those holes, for tears, fierce fire inflamed                     
The bleeding socket as if for brain a balm –               
While my bright eyes died on my own palm.               

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