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Hands Of Murder
October 17, 2012
My Hands,
stained with sin.
Escaping what is
wrong is impossible.
In every touch
lie a memory
in which i do
not speak. You
see it in
your head.
In each hand,
there is longing.
Love is what
they cannot remember.
Hate, a friend
they shall not
forget. My hands
stained with sin,
evil lies within.
© Julie K., Vancouver, WA
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