NumbA Poem by BrokenWishbone
I was shot by another arrow,
but this time I don't feel anything. I wonder how's that even possible. So when I pull it out my chest and taste the blood dripping from its pointed head, it's bitter and cold. When I realized what's happening to me, I hear the thunder roars and I start to laugh victoriously. © 2017 BrokenWishbone |
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