Death reaches my slow pace.
"How does it feel" he says.
"It doesn't". Says I.
I was meant to die,
left abandoned before time.
Slapped in the face.
Now my tears leave a trace.
A flood of blood,
a mess on the floor.
Dragging a pain
I no longer explain.
Screams rip my inside,
unable to be heard outside.
No one can see...
No one but me.
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