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Apr 2016
You've infected my head.
Even in death I write of you.
My muse.
Stomping my head into the earth with every word.
A deadly gangrene.
A poison in my tea.
I lay my head against the curb bracing for the next crushing blow.
I let the infection spread.
I drink the poison down.
Written by
Kathleen M  24/F/Alberta, Canada
(24/F/Alberta, Canada)   
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