The unborn dreams of a moving doll!

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I cradle the broken pieces
Of my soul
Its sharp edges
bruising my skin
I bring it towards my bosom
To embrace it one last time
My soft lips plant
a tender kiss
On the wings
Of unborn dreams
Its uneven breathe
fall on my face.

The night wipes away my memory,
I faint like a fly.
Its poisonous feather casts a spell.
Etching back my memory
Like an unfinished jigsaw.

In the morning
I feel like a moving doll
Cold and numb.

At night
I fight,
The never ending battle
For my  broken soul
As the witch’s laughter
rings in my ears.

Posted from WordPress for Android

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