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Still mask, that's what's left- a face, A canvas for words I've never said. Your fingers tracing the lace, The only  thing I ever dread. You place the letters by my side, Silent tear rolling down your cheek, Words tangled in webs, trying to hide, Knowing that I'll never speak. You lay white lilies by ice-cold hands, Close to cover the letters as it lands.
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May 6, 2025
May 6, 2025 at 2:54 PM UTC
Letters by the Dead
Still mask, that's what's left- a face, A canvas for words I've never said. Your fingers tracing the lace, The only  thing I ever dread. You place the letters by my side, Silent tear rolling down your cheek, Words tangled in webs, trying to hide, Knowing that I'll never speak. You lay white lilies by ice-cold hands, Close to cover the letters as it lands.
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May 6, 2025
May 6, 2025 at 2:54 PM UTC
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