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Crow
Poems
Mar 25
Now what will I do with my hands
I will pick and scratch at my hands
Until they’re red raw
Just so I don’t have to remember how it felt to touch you
Because when I look at them
They don’t feel like mine
All I can think about
Is how it felt to hold your hand
How it felt to hold you
What I would do to hold you once more
Written by
Crow
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Jme Love
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