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Jul 2013 · 341
A cliché hurt
Oliver Duskrine Jul 2013
This strangled cry from bloodied lips
A cry caught in your fingertips

Sliced through my wrist and to the bone
Were it not for him you would be my own

Like a fire I was lit
****** like a bird to eternally flit

In a cage too small for my
Bloodied lips and strangled cry

— The End —