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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#343451voted by our readers
By Anonymous
Cold to the touch, I am colder. Fearless Of death. I am already dead. Nothing is pain, But the stark light bites, And it’s blinding me, Stripping and binding me, Darkness...
Cold to the touch, I am colder. Fearless Of death. I am already dead. Nothing is pain, But the stark light bites, And it’s blinding me, Stripping and binding me, Darkness...