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Friday, 19 June 2015

Muse ...

Be the muse who bleeds through every crack and every fissure of my broken soul. Let me pour you in, get drunk on your taste and dance to your breaths. Let me spill you on paper in crooked, shattered ways. Every day. On new pages with old inks. I want the world to see how romantic melancholy can be. I want them to hear how melodious trapped cries sound. I want them to feel how home can be. Just how you can make me bleed.

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