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Poetic T Jan 2018
Flies crept on cremated wounds
                       that had healed untidy..
stitches were never removed
they just descended within
                               suffocating the scars..

Scratching at there depth
within.
              The conciseness
       that caused the cuts to linger.
But still they bled internally.

Your scheming of false fears
            will be actioned upon...
Your just a canary in a coal mine,
        not realizing your already dead.
suffocated within a dark place..

I'm never going to heal,
           but I'm never going to
suffocate on my ego.
         Yours will just sing
till no one listens, sing silently little bird.

— The End —