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Aug 2012
Boiling water concealed only by imagination.
Oil oozing from a bloated shell.
I'm afraid of forgetting life.
Hiding, erasing, altering.
How desperate one must be.
Lies fill their mouths no sooner than blood fills these veins.
Love escapes their hearts as easily as ink on paper.
Bones crack, the fluid is gone.
Eyes blink, the future is history.
These weary pupils.
Abby
Written by
Abby
542
   Joan Karcher
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