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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Other >> ID #1620182 |
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Fire, friction,
Drama, call again, I cannot hear you, see you, or feel you, In my own bloodlust, I ache to kill for every last drop, What’s wrong with me, I pull back, karma, morals, earth, I ache for your hot crimson blood, Pull me out of this rut, I need but a single taste, Of your hot metallic blood.
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