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Friday, July 14, 2006

Hands

Hands,
hands everywhere
whispered words and muted threats,
Taking away what I once was,
breaking in me slowly,
like a wolf,
silently closing in,
on its cornered prey,
like a sour lemon,
the after taste is more bitter,
than the initial act,
does he know what he did was wrong,
or is he more insane,
than I have become.

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