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Small
I feel small
In the cradle of your words,
each syllable a storm that bends me,
your voice, the howl of thunder,
makes my silhouette curl,
an origami of fear.
I choke back the...
In the cradle of your words,
each syllable a storm that bends me,
your voice, the howl of thunder,
makes my silhouette curl,
an origami of fear.
I choke back the...
