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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#441621voted by our readers
By Anonymous
I. my head’s dead… laying down on the bed, my head is dead and fermentin, like cheap, acidic wine, boiling ugly bubbles toward my dirtied, nothing sky, which it stains. I...
I. my head’s dead… laying down on the bed, my head is dead and fermentin, like cheap, acidic wine, boiling ugly bubbles toward my dirtied, nothing sky, which it stains. I...