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HUNGER

This is not love.

This is when pain is called an entrance.

The voice becomes a blade.

Worship, a form of surrender.

Here, they don’t seek closeness.

Here, they learn to survive the fire

and rename ash.

Art that demands blood

is no god.

It eats.

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Written by

RastislavKnezi

M

Published: Jan 9
LinesWords: 1046

Notes: dedicated to Morfreeda

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