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phoebe
Poems
Mar 2020
stop hurting me.
your hands on my hips, your fingernails
sinking into my skin making it draw blood
and now the blood runs down my leg and drips onto the cold tile floor
no matter how delicate you are with my body
you always find a way to hurt me.
Written by
phoebe
21/F/TX
(21/F/TX)
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Bogdan Dragos
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