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The Garden
The barbs of your tongue
Cut me to shreds
Unpicking my mind's
Most delicate threads
So I weaved myself words
From the pit of my soul
To replace all the light
And the joy you had stole
Then I ripped myself free
From your talons of spite
Spilling ink upon page
Under dawn's weary light
And I bled, intravenous
Through roots of my mind
Feedi...
Sunday 14th August 2022 1:03 pm
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