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Jun 2020
with sharp nails

she dug me
like I was

made of dirt
scraping away

my skin
reaching my

red drips

I stained
the carpet

abstractly

I was to be
punished

for my temper
the rage of

the rejected
the fire lit

so quickly

by the words
I heard with

my ears or
my mind
John Destalo
Written by
John Destalo  55/M/Harrisburg, PA
(55/M/Harrisburg, PA)   
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