Screams curdle the essence of your blood.
They stop the rhythmic beatings of the heart;
A skittish pulse forms and throbs
And creeps its way towards the temple.
I saved her from her father’s curse,
His frantic hands clawing fabric folds
And tearing buttons from her shirt
To accompany his morals on the floor.
I was the hero, just ask the girl.
She’ll tell you indirectly though.
Her voice is lost – the truth remains
Buried and clasped between her lips.
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