Bitter

Why she bothers, when there is knowing,
these delicate games never remain?.
Another wound.
Another burnt mark under her skin.

Hold her, ’til she decays.
Hold her cracked hands & kiss these swollen eyes.
Close her soul with your stitched lips.
Catch her last breath like useless insect,
trash these wings and watch it to suffer.
3 grams of a soul.
Worthless and unnecessary.

The mission is unfinished.
Give her a name &
let her….

… bless the dead.

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