εσωστρεφής

I can close my lips, make my left hand dance, with my fingers clasp a bleeding pen, beneath my kind palm, on the stained paper, where I risk my spirit, to send forth my verses, throughout the dusts, then prove to my twin, that I am not anymore the scaredy-cat, she used to catch weeping, while the abstacts are scattering. Yes, I can. -Dania

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