Wednesday 12 November 2014

Illness

Flowing in those purple streams of life 
Scarlet inside 
Shards of glass and nails with rust 
Layers of slime, rotten and dust 

Covers every pulse, 
They reverberate, twisting and turning 
Loud as silence, please stop torturing. 

"Useless, you are, impossible girl," 
Please stop the machines, I'm already burnt. 

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