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Jun 2016
Two hands under my legs, pressed against the seat cushion.
They’re red
like angry faces seeing lies all around them.
I hide what makes me tick inside clenched fists.
Black and blue on your
lips-tick, smeared on the wall from
whispering secrets through drill holes
quivering from rage
at the sight of grinding teeth
ready to bite the truth.
Raven
Written by
Raven  F/Washington
(F/Washington)   
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