SubstancesA Poem by PoeticChicoThe tip of your finger signals the end of the world. The running substances in my body escape through my wounds and still the tip of your finger points towards my bleeding soul. © 2016 PoeticChicoReviews
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4 Reviews Added on September 2, 2016 Last Updated on September 2, 2016 AuthorPoeticChicoKC, MOAboutHello my name is Alex. I write poetry. I live in my own bubble. so... don't burst it... thanks! more..Writing
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