DEAD aGain
These words are as real as you and me
Stab them and they’ll bleed
What you think or assume
I don’t give a shit about
Seeing me as a stereotypical black heart
There’s no doubt
A black rose, imprisoned by a morbid tainted glass
Shards beneath my skin
As thin as a butterflies wing
Pain beyond grasp
Trapped mind in an outer space
Lost face, Dead grace
Blood spattered
No trace of the weapon
A drained mouth
An unfamiliar laugh
Awakened by a loud silence
Dried sense
Reminiscence
Pink split tongue, Cut off lobe
Cut up skin to the bone
Scraped pupils, broken lids
Now the purity of death concedes
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فاطمه گیویان در جمعه چهارم اسفند 1385
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