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Kaliko
Poems
May 2015
Taken
The sound of dripping
was not of tears, but of her blood.
Thick scarlet drops, create a pool,
spreading to my quivering hands.
Kneeling, I stared in disbelief,
the lively face, now ashen.
Her glassy eyes seared into,
the very essence of my sanity.
Written by
Kaliko
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