There was no wound, no visible bruise, but the horror of that moment had me in despair.
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Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
There was no wound, no visible bruise, but the horror of that moment had me in despair.
Nobody thinks about human life, that we kill people with secrets. There is no horror, that is the appalling thing. The emotional reaction over it will be infinitely bored, casual, and complacent.
A grim night in my own prison, so much time shut up in the horror of a nightmare as I feel powerless.