Blades of glass,
piercing skin,
tearing open,
the blood within,
escaping,
flowing,
draining from its source,
which pumps repeatedly,
without remorse,
this perfect machine,
this body of mine,
killing me slowly,
its only a matter of time.
Blades of glass,
piercing skin,
tearing open,
the blood within,
escaping,
flowing,
draining from its source,
which pumps repeatedly,
without remorse,
this perfect machine,
this body of mine,
killing me slowly,
its only a matter of time.
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