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smallpoem
Category: Writing and Poetry
And while my nails tore the rest of that wooden box in which my soul succumbed, I could feel some kind of heat. Not the one emanating from my already frozen body , of course, but an internal one., lively flames trying to rescue my last heartbeats as death hugged my back. The sky begins to close over my head, I can see everything falling, it is as if this prison holdin » Continue Reading