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Internal Demons
The mind riddled with wicked tendrils
Speaking in whispers
Like modest rage
Vicious tempered tongue
Mashed sickening and sweet against one ear
Hateful confessions trickle liquid death from the earlobes
And down it seeps bloody between the lips
From those lips, vile loathing is spat out like a cancerous smoker's lung
The broken heart splatters revoltingly on the ground

© SteelBlue