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she stares at her reflection through her blurred vision,
they tell her that the skin she wears has been made with imprecision
so she buries herself within the folds and creases
trying desperately to shatter and reconstruct the pieces
waging a war she leaves her welfare maltreated
the callous thought hence becomes wholly seeded
YOU ARE READING
Throes of Spring ✔️
Poezja[FEATURED] godhood is just like girlhood: a begging to be believed
