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by
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Maniacal Escape
Poems
Nov 2020
Death waits on side.
Do you crave it? The feeling. So abrasive.
You may touch it. Caress it if you wish. But it isn't yours, I promise you.
It's nails, can you feel it?
Cutting.
Hope you feel healed.
Reach for more.
Dare to grasp at it.
Fingertips
Reach for a smile.
Written by
Maniacal Escape
30/M/lancashire
(30/M/lancashire)
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Martin Bond
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