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Aug 2018
Light runs the edge sharp.
A glance could slice your eyes.
The blade melts through air like hot iron;
with a deadly silence it glides,
until neck exposed, a head is claimed.
And the crows sing out their mockery
D Baby Bey
Written by
D Baby Bey  26/M/U.S.A
(26/M/U.S.A)   
696
 
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