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Jun 2016
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fervour stings at my tongue,
only ephemeral, with
the bite of a shattered snake.

the serpent rears its head
with a grandeur of an old soul,
thwarting the strife inside
me erecting from ashes and rotten
blossoms.

your fingers strut athwart
the unholy scars of my memoirs. and
you murmur with blood in your words
and lips, i see black.

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elina
Written by
elina
203
 
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