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Christa Ziegler Apr 2018
You have no tears
Volcanos pockmark your skin
Scars left behind the turmoil that was your soul
Every once in a while
The universe still throws something your way
An asteroid
Anguish
Your skin craters
But your core unmoves

The volcanos no more erupt their fury
The veins no more bleed
Can something wrung dry still freeze?

— The End —