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Literature Text
Wounds
I distrust open wounds,
too much of the pain is the surprise of blood,
the consciousness of fragility.
This wound you have given me is small,
it measures only finger to wrist.
Don't flatter yourself.
Others have opened me from throat to gut.
I distrust open wounds,
too much of the pain is the surprise of blood,
the consciousness of fragility.
This wound you have given me is small,
it measures only finger to wrist.
Don't flatter yourself.
Others have opened me from throat to gut.
A man wounds and cuts a woman. How does she respond
© 2012 - 2024 swansisters
Comments9
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This was a wonderful morning waking up to read the comment you all left. I thank each of everyone of it because this what I want my poetry to do