The whip, a striking adder.
The fist, a raging bull.
Thorns sleep in our feet.
Grass slices our cheeks.
Sun scorches our heads.
Frost sears our toes.
Deliver us.
Death
I want to meet him. Death. The one who has taken everything from me to keep. We must be similar if we love all of the same things.
this one like *wipes tears away*
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