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Jul 2016
Empty breastbone beating,
a cardiovascular cadaver
under siege by ravenous scavengers
feeding off the lack of meaning
in further consuming me,
still rasping weakly,
pleading for a reason
to keep repeating:
fleeting, fleeting, fleeting,
reaching for the feeling I last felt
when my lungs were breathing.
persephone
Written by
persephone  22/Genderqueer/TX
(22/Genderqueer/TX)   
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