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Feb 3
My eyes are slits
As my reflection is not familiar
โ€” with her
But she has my attention
She is smoking from her ears
Her voice trembles
Her lips are thin lines in dry chaps
And her tone is wellโ€”
Seriously monotone

Like nails on a chalky stone
It sent violent shivers of discomfort
Up my spine
down again
This body
A zombie

I snapped back to my face of wasted time
She is an escapee from her own death
Her tone crosses me
Like a knife on my bone
In solemn droning
To the girl with bloodshot eyes
Though not from tears
But from bursting inside.
Written by
Elena  26/F/Virginia
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