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Jun 2013
Her pale and cold fingers
Gripped the ends of her sweater
Tighter
Tighter
As their words ever so slowly
Tore her apart.

Later that night
Her head will drop
Slowly
Slowly
Down as she stares
At the empty bottle of pills.

She has found her way out of the labyrinth.
Written by
sunflower
854
   Eva Mlynski, little Bird and st64
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