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Recovery MAG
December 11, 2014
A universe rushing from my veins,
Heavy pools of crimson.
Seeping from a wound,
It screams existence through a vivid shade.
The stream refuses to halt.
So much is lost.
Automatically replenishing,
You return to glide through me.
Swiftly reaching every internal corner,
Traveling through even the most spidery passages.
With nothing left to surge through my vessel,
Your absence would leave me as cold and lifeless as Pluto.
© Nicholas B., Highland Village, TX
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