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Sep 2018
It's the taste of salt from the oceans that run from tired eyes.

It's the feeling of cold metal going through pale skin that's never seen by daylight.

It's the sound of silent screams in the middle of the night.

It's a world seen through tear-blurred eyes.

It's the ***** smell from a poisoned inside.
Written by
Victoria Kvist  14/F
(14/F)   
236
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