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Jul 2022
Tear the layer of this sheath
where he ran through his mitt
her hands strayed and pinched
that it was grazed in too deep

Lift it from my face
he had whispered, shushed my name
in where she touched on and snick
and my innocence was raid

Let it burn to flames
in the branch of hopelessness
I was in agony
to crawl off of my veins

If you ever saw me in green
then it was purple in my range
it was yellow on my smell
but screamed red in the end.
Tint
Written by
Tint  25
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   guy scutellaro
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