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May 31
secrecy, is it crime?
i keep mine, they stay untried
is it wrong, is it okay?
spun of spider silk, delicate

still, a whisper of what can be
but whispering is hard to hear
short; percussive string strain
sweet like sugar on your tongue,
not molasses from a cane

where is the drowning now?
i wouldn't know what to do with molasses anyway
Written by
Poetria  18/F/Pakistan
(18/F/Pakistan)   
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