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Poetry

soft.

Soft was the way
You touched my skin
Hard was the way
You entered in
Photographs to help us feel
Sort through the wreckage
Of Fear

The way your voice cuts through my head
It’s killing me again
The way your voice cuts through my head
It’s killing me again

If you looked closer
You might see
The mess inside
You’ve made of me
Please don’t speak
Those words again
Please don’t speak
Those words again

The way your voice cuts through my head
It’s killing me again
The way your voice cuts through my head
It’s killing me again