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Her Power
I cannot
continue seeing
you in that
condition;
drunk and broken down living
on fumed promises.
How dare she
hold your heart in her
poisoned hands,
not caring
if you die or if you live
until tomorrow!
Must I see
only your tombstone,
and her cold
eyes laughing
at me because her power
was greater than mine?
Copyright ©
Chetta Achara
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