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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #1690618
I cannot accurately write an introduction to this poem. It simply explains itself...
In feeling this continuous strain
I cannot help but know that twill last all my days;
Throughout every second that I breathe
This sting, it stabs me.
This single minute, seethes
From my eager grasp
And, after ‘tis gone,
All I may do is simply gasp.
For all that is left is the unceasing piercing pang,
These are the last words my heart ever sang.
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