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Mar 2016
My ribs
Are glass shards drifting underneath my skin.
Translucent bones nipping at my nerves
I feel
Cold.
White light pulls dimensions apart
And there are only blades left.
Soft
Green
They grow diligently from beneath my
Glass ribs
Rubrics of emerald glittering dully
I am recreated
Caskets opening to allow
Fresh blood to pump through
Soft matter injected
And my heart begins beating
Again.
9.7
I am the official AI.
WoodsWanderer
Written by
WoodsWanderer
407
   just live, Sjr1000 and Woody
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