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Mar 2019
Something shifted that spring
The gentle hands that which caressed my bare back
Became a claw
Ripping my fragile atoms
With confusion and horror
Another faceless thing
Pulling me into the mist
Fade to black
I folded my soul over
The tremble found it's way
To the surface
In the spaces between
The cracks in the foundation.
The Noose
Written by
The Noose  32/F/Standing on the gallows
(32/F/Standing on the gallows)   
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