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The Horror

Oh, the horror. When the teardrops falling On your shirt Stain you the color of dying roses And the pale eyelids Flutter suddenly shut, The cheek in your chest and Weak arms Begging impossible safety From your helpless hands. And the scream ripping out of you Is as warm And as hollow As the body Resting quiet and heavy In your shaking arms.
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Written by
jillyan-adams
American
Published
Feb 20, 2013
Lines·Words
17·63
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