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Aug 2020
You grab ahold

I push

I claw.


Words fly from my lips

Like poisoned darts.

They'll cut you open

They'll rub you raw.


You spit my venom

Right back at me.

You squeeze my hand

Crush me with your grip.


All of a sudden

Something invisible

Stabs me.

A steely cold

Settles in my chest

Rather than blood

Hot tears drip.
Written by
melancholy  F
(F)   
115
 
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