Poem -

Pity Nightmares

author
Crow

She's not even real yet but I hear her voice from the corner of my room, I imagen her contortions distorting my vision, such a blissful idea, her tounge dripping with venom, she strokes my face and licks my exit wound, such lovely thoughts but she's not even real yet.

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665
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Total votes: 0
Poetry Genre: 
Prose
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