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The Victim

The Victim

I’ll not cry for the fear of dying but I’ll shed a tear for all the things I will never know. The grand wormwood ran through the cracks of my broken glass and I could not look away, I watched them slowly put the needle back under the straw bed, in an instant rage the filthy ragged wool blanket was in the air, like a fool I could not look away.  The smell of Absinthe filled the little...

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