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friday's migrane

I have already told you;

there are sleepless mornings

when I can taste

every poison lacing my cigarette

and I wouldn't mind except

for the way that they sift past

a throat already rubbed sore

from all of the screams kept silent inside.

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Written by

leah-cunningham

American

Published: Nov 20, 2015
LinesWords: 843

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