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Bitter Taste
  
  The taste of blood in my mouth was bitter.
  A rush of iron and utter disregard.
  A mouth full of red
  was another night of stars,
  enviable.
  A night full of stars
  another day of iron.
  ‘Please’
  I’d beg off with not a word of remorse.
  It became apparent
  that the word please
  didn’t apply to me.
  Help became the next please,
  but it was covered over by the red in my mouth.
  Don’t became more
  wish I got the memo before.
  Stop wasn’t even an option,
  stop was covered by a smile
  that never left the face of another.
  ‘You want’ no
  but that no was a key to something more.
  A no, a yes
  to the face of another it was all the same.
  Go

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I've noticed that pieces of work that reach out and touch more than just your readers minds but also their hearts are always the best works. You have to be willing to pretty much open your heart up and give it to each and everyone of your readers without fear that your work isn't good enough or that they aren't understanding it. Because as long as you are trying to connect with them, they will understand it on some sort of level.