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Stephanie Trixie

She shot her way
To a safe haven
A place she believes
Her troubles will fade

Physically hurt
And emotionally dead
What could her thoughts
Possibly whisper

But is life so bad
That death becomes a protector
do we blame the dead for leaving?
Or praise ourselves
For surviving?

She was driven by fear
So she let the onion cry
And tried to make the world guilty
For it’s innocence,
For her impatience

A weapon on her cold body
She already left
before the battle started

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About Victor Azudialo

I'm a writer, A lover of poems And creativity is all I crave for.

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