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Little Martyr

Ephemeral lips blooming fully crimson, loosening

Harmonious conjugation of rosewater and saltine sweat

Underneath my effigy of innocence

3 brittle thorns stick detached and of no use; pressed precisely, pinned to place

Making of me a bumblebee, lifeless in strong uninvited arms

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Written by
samantha-18
Published
May 9, 2013
Lines·Words
5·42
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