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Broken

The winter's wind  
Cleanses my face  
And cut's the tears  
From my eyes  
 
I had plans  
But you sat  
In judgement  
Of my feelings  
 
Razor words  
That left  
Sceptic scars  
which never heal  
 
I bleed  
Contaminated joy  
Over unwashed  
Breakfast bowls
Written by staggerlee (Paul Martin)
Published | Edited 27th Jan 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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