Scourge: A Poetry Collection

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๐’๐จ๐ฎ๐ฅ | ๐ˆ

This is life,

And this is death.

This is the Sanctuary,

Where my Soul lies,

Between the words,

I bleed from my lips.

I will write the tragedy,

Which my heart sings,

In the dead of Night,

When I lay alone,

Weeping the blood,

I shed,

On your thorns.

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