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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#271341voted by our readers
By Anonymous
Snow was the canvas, I was the masterpiece, My thick, wine red blood was my paint, My open wounds painted with ease. A fresh coat of silk snow slowly descended, I was sad of...
Snow was the canvas, I was the masterpiece, My thick, wine red blood was my paint, My open wounds painted with ease. A fresh coat of silk snow slowly descended, I was sad of...