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Aug 2015
Sleep did not come
and his stomach was a sea
of acid festering on the rotting
husks of swallowed lies
and quarantined pain

objects too sharp to fit into any
puzzle strewn over
carpeted floor   they lie in wait
to **** their tithe

Every one a knife

every stab a cruel joke
painting him into the corner
where he belongs.
I have ruined myself best.
Misadventures of Crow
Written by
Misadventures of Crow  40/Gresham
(40/Gresham)   
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