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Feb 2018
Rumours fly like dead carcasses,
             infecting those who they land upon.

But no one realizes that they were bitten, corrupted
             burrowing beneath conscious thought.

Seeding the larvae of what would seed within
            the canals of corrupted reflections.

Never realising that every thought was laid
            well before they knew and hatched diseased.
Poetic T
Written by
Poetic T  On Oblivions Doorstep
(On Oblivions Doorstep)   
393
   Poetic T
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