keepsmegoing
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Your fingers tell the soft story to my skin.
A cautious, caring narrative.
Woven on spot, etched on my flesh.
Your lips sing the song of Angels.
Every motion is a swoon birds envy.
Writing keeps me sane
Even when there's chaos enveloping me
It helps ease the never-ending pain
And sets my mind free.
Holding me back
From the monster fighting its way out
