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Calista Holden Nov 2017
go find a hiding place
while i hack up the pieces.

falling off the deep end with
bruised knuckles;
skinned, bleedin.

shove my hand in the bag we are keeping the matches,
inhale the sulfur,
then bathe in the ashes.

the wolves are coming here
baby
youll want to hide soon.

screams will be echoed,
bouncing off the moon.

— The End —