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May 2017
Oh how I despise you so
of your wretched curls
Spun of fine gold

Under damp sheets and course bones
that once took place of white wings
I wrestle the ****** within my dreams

Then my hands begin to shake
On the doorknob there hangs a burning ring
my heart finally flutters in a familiar ache

I know it is going to burn me terribly so
But I am far pre-occupied to care
To possess what was supposed to be mine long ago

I waft in it's warmth and beams
the pressure burning...burning my fingers
Maybe God could finally recognize me?

It's light dies out
No matter how high I place it on the tip of my head
It falls to the floor, miserably with a loud sound.
Written by
Nikki Danilov  22/F/Philadelphia, PA
(22/F/Philadelphia, PA)   
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