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Nothing Poetic
Folder:
fallen There is nothing poetic
about the knife that slides
over the young flesh.
.
Nothing beautiful in the
blood that stains the whole of her
Underarms.
.
There is no song
In the heart beat as it slows
And beats out her death sentence.
.
There is nothing poetic
About the grave stone
The last pillow to lay her head.
.
Nothing beautiful in the
Note she left on her
Make-shift bed.
.
There is no song
in the last voicemail
"I loved you"
