In my Breast

It's hard. 
Not the pain 
But 
The blow crossing its pad. 
Smells like death. 
While returning. 
Jumping two ups and downs. 
Pufffff. 
Runs out. 
Not yet finished ! 
A tornado comes. 
Drawing a black curtain on its reflection. 
Surprizingly and soon. 
It calms down. 
Being lighter than the blow.

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