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There's a cold, sputtering flame where my heart should be, burrowing deep and building a fortress so tall you cannot see its peaks kiss the clouds. A heavy weight that's sat on my chest since before I could breathe is slowly becoming a faded memory as each chain link rusts and falls free.
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Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 3:44 AM UTC
the past is the past
There's a cold, sputtering flame where my heart should be, burrowing deep and building a fortress so tall you cannot see its peaks kiss the clouds. A heavy weight that's sat on my chest since before I could breathe is slowly becoming a faded memory as each chain link rusts and falls free.
lottie-white
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Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 3:44 AM UTC
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