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Aug 2016
i stand here with a hole in my chest. someone unearthed the key and dug up all the rest, their grimy hands
scratching and scraping into the dark. Unsure of what they'll find, but they wouldn't mind
leaving the tomb with a few
maybe one or two.

i wish they bagged my soul with them.
it's rusting itself blue.
the cruel irony of preaching love & kindness when it will never happen to you
Written by
nn  +65
   Jim Musics
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