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Rococo
Poems
May 2022
Pillow-shaped Calvary
Born free of sin in this stoneless land,
I’m forced to love people I can’t.
To make up for it, I crucify myself each night,
Struck by the flail of my own mind.
Pierced by the spear of my own lies,
Hammering the nails to the beat of my own heart.
I look up at that deep black sky,
But He is nowhere to be found.
Was I sent here just to die?
#guilt
Written by
Rococo
26/M
(26/M)
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