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Feb 2021
memories from the past keep echoing
like little drops of rain tapping on the windows in my head
pitter
       patter
               drip
                   drop
remnants from the storm only I could see
feel
     hear
           taste
the scent of death weaves its smoky hands around my neck
i scream

but my voice is only a whisper
so
   soft
        so
           soft
my screamswordsfeelingspains
are just dead leaves carried on a heavy w
                         i
                           n
                              d
dead leaves you crunch with your feet
Written by
Emma Pratt  20/F
(20/F)   
949
     Jennifer DeLong and Coralium
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