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Oily fingers
The sound of splatter or a loud crackle-
Cause a million slandering gazes-
Turn towards its epicentre,
Where I stood.
Of course, something stayed broken-
Into a million uneven pieces-
On the ground, scattered,
Near my foot.
None of...
Cause a million slandering gazes-
Turn towards its epicentre,
Where I stood.
Of course, something stayed broken-
Into a million uneven pieces-
On the ground, scattered,
Near my foot.
None of...
