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Vicodin
August 15, 2014
Look at my hand.
You'd never guess that
those holes are from the
nights when I reached for
you and you drew away and
into your pot, even after
you promised three times to
always listen.
I hope when I die you don't
know what you did so that your
death can be in vain.
© Zoe V., Armidale, Australia
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