I pull the object from its hidden spot,
The lowest drawer of my old and beaten desk.
Stored there so a secret can be kept.
I admire it slowly,
Turning it over in clammy hands,
Watching its sharp blade shine.
Pressing it to my skin,
I tell myself that I can allow this,
Just one last time.
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Author:
Eli (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 25th, 2017 00:18
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 78
Offline)
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