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Sarina
Poems
Dec 2012
blades
A jagged, sharp thing the men love:
is it my teeth? or the knives?
I do not know if the world is getting
bigger, or I am getting smaller β
one would comet a smile into grass,
the safe blades: the green is bliss.
But I am piqued by such shine,
I do not want it in my life, no, itβll
outweigh love I have cut into pieces
inside.
And it cannot be the teeth: they
are human, though blank as a page.
Written by
Sarina
forests
(forests)
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