Mouths smelling like bodies
Of the blood drying inside of them
Their screams so silent
And pieces of their broken heart piercing their souls
Buried down, away in the dark
And the truth unable to rise before death sets them (or me) free
Lonesome tears on their cheeks
Like fingers caressing tattered journal pages
My body all wet from their juice
Thick fat tears burying the truth in a hollow tepid pool
Not even a glint of light shines through the pane
Blinding me to the tombstone
Being laid over my slowly receding heartbeat
-Smallee
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