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Aug 2016
Hostile fingers molded like pocket rockets
hang in a slow motion picture frame with
my God-Given etched into the name plate

I try to remain faceless, so I rip at my skin
praying if I pretend it was painless they'll
fade away into the wind aimlessly

Don't wave at me I have no name
My God-Given was previously reclaimed
Written by
what a waste
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