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May 2020
The hand of death grazed my back.
His cold hand numbed the pain.
His black cloak swept me in,
I was captivated.
I was hooked on his corrupting stare.
His blood read eyes,
peering straight passed my body and into my soul.
His masked face,
hid his crooked smile.
His kiss,
Withheld me from his true intentions.
s Willow
Written by
s Willow  22/Gender Fluid/Any dark room
(22/Gender Fluid/Any dark room)   
121
   TSPoetry
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