Youch!
the pain of your memory
is sharp enough to be felt
as the nails raked along my back
by somebody else
who desires my worship
is sharp enough to be felt
as the nails raked along my back
by somebody else
who desires my worship
“I have lost my dewdrops!” Cries the flower to the morning sky that has just lost all its stars... All bleeding stops eventually. I am but a collection of particles, atoms that chose to suffer in unison.
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