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Jan 2019
Her soul fell below your feet,
As her heart poured out to you like a river  at a quiet beat,
Each drop of blood splatted unto your hands and face,
the blood stopped dripping and now there is no more of her race,
The blood is dry on your hands,
You murdered her with your lies down into the Netherlands..
Bethany M P
Written by
Bethany M P  18/F/Naples Florida
(18/F/Naples Florida)   
147
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