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Matador...

  • Writer: Lalima
    Lalima
  • 20 minutes ago
  • 1 min read

They were pushing the inside of my head

To hurt in a bizarre fashion

Without pain

Eerie hurt

Pushing, pressing against the skull

A panic inducing kind of pain

I rubbed hard with my thick hands

The sides of my frontal plate

Eyes shut tight in hope...

I saw them vividly,

Buds of horns, making their way out

Am I turning into a bull then?

Just like that my head

Contorted into a plasma ball.

My fingers connecting

To the hurting.

A game of whacka mole

with the insides, hurt, thoughts...

To the outside, touch, hope and agony .

I rolled my body

Lashing it against

The pillows and mattress

Feet fighting the burning

Just like that

I knew, I knew

It's there where I began,...

Before I met you.

 
 
 

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