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Aug 2020
To peel off your soft skin, mold it
into armor, let the blood gush out
until it fills your cup, and you gulp it in
as medicine; to pluck out your silenced
tongue, watch it slither across blank
pages, as it paints them scarlet-sweet
like your heart; to **** the trauma, bury it
under words, but make it immortal
on the same paper.
Written by
Paul Idiaghe  18/M/USA
(18/M/USA)   
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