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Sacrelicious
Poems
Jan 2017
Acute anxiety.
Sick in the heart.
Perpetual darkness pulses through my bruised up veins.
Blood work seems to take forever.
Heathens cast the first stone and burn me at the stake.
Like the filthy witch I've become.
But in vain, I've been incinerating in silence.
Since you left me here with these vampires.
Hungry for the essence of my spirit.
Written by
Sacrelicious
31/M/Hell
(31/M/Hell)
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