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BurningAsh in Micropoetry
• 8 reads

He lay in a bed of Broken Glass

He sleeps in a bed of broken glass,yet he dosen't have a single scratch

His skin now adorned with scars yet not a single scratch

He slept in the bed of glass for so long that his once soft skin turned thick and scared

He no longer felt the pain of where he lay

But fins comfort in something that's just as broken as he is

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