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Reflections of Lady Abigail
I yearn for the pucker of youth that I once relished, I ache for the shimmering face that could arrest the eyes of others, A pursing of my lips only discloses the sunken contours of my face, A wild...
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She handpicked the last rose of summer; watched the petals wilt into a ballet of depression. The ghost of his apology of deceit had bred in her mind for days. She knew that walking unafraid in a world...
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A mirage of a spider scales your bare back, Peroxide bursts your plastic skin, You cling inside a curtain, among wet tiles; Where lime mould bleeds from bruised grout. Mould fed the flies, now stuck in...
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