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Literature Text
The moment we crawl from our moist, bloated cocoons
The throb of distant screams
Reverberates in our bones
And the rusted stench of curdling blood envelops us
So we gamble it away
But spades come up
And back down into hard-packed dirt
As the hawk's curved sickle closes around our throats.
The throb of distant screams
Reverberates in our bones
And the rusted stench of curdling blood envelops us
So we gamble it away
But spades come up
And back down into hard-packed dirt
As the hawk's curved sickle closes around our throats.
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Written for my poetry class this semester.
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O_O *runs and hides under baby blanket*
Very creepy. Great use of imagery!
Very creepy. Great use of imagery!