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PurplePanache
Poems
Nov 2018
Uninvited Guest
The cold sun spits into the face of Day
His icy hands ***** my ****** soul
Come night, with thine desires, black and clean
Come night, with thine dreams, ruthless and sweet
The cold sun spits into the face of Me
Written by
PurplePanache
14/F/India
(14/F/India)
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