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Pushing Daisies
Poems
Apr 2014
Wasting
Can you run,
Your softened fingers,
Along the outskirts,
Of my brittle bones.
Push them down,
Until they jut out,
And pierce through,
My cracking skin.
Can you hold,
My head under,
The murky depts,
Of darkened water.
Sew my bleeding,
Lips together,
And make sure,
I cannot breathe.
Written by
Pushing Daisies
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