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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...

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