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Nov 2020
I sit through the tunes in my head
by the heat of the ablaze night.
Its grotesque fire bellows inside me,
rage envisaged breaking my soul.

Streams of dots,
haphazard connections,
reels of memories burst through the veins.
Reminiscence of perfidy sting in lapses,
hurt every rib,
every gap in the bones.

Ribbons of lies unravel my skin.
I start to burn.
A corner at first,
then all through the back.
Fumes rise in sync with the flames.
I lose a skin here, a patch there.
Smoke choked my barren eyes.

I believed.
I lost.
I am paying through the ashes of mine.
Akanksha Priyadarshini
325
   Bogdan Dragos
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