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It's a poem. Please read and review. |
| And if it drips cold from the chambers I call heart, to fester and burn like the rest of my guilt. If my fingers shake and my vision blurs from the tears I’ve meant to shed eons before I became. Would you take pity and invite me back inside the warmth of your soul, near the steady rhythm that reminds us of who you are? Would you see passed what I’ve done and see who I want to become? |