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Rated: · Poetry · Other · #1724091
My calling
The whispers of the night draw me closer, the devils kisses try to cross through my unfaithful lips. they try to pull me towards the unwanted and where the pressure is close to the weakest breaking point. My heart knows right and tugs slowly after trying to recover the broken glass that has shattered from my fragile body. Hands reach from underneath with fingers like barbwire that won’t let go. The feelings inside are running back and fourth but I feel like I’ve lost control of this body I’m supposed to call mine. Recovery at this point is very few because the day I met my match the blood began to flow from this delicate body I don’t know to call my own.
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