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Click hereThe light I shine is not my own.
This warmth you feel is not from me.
Laying still in my cold inky prison,
Waiting for immersion, for red searing pain.
Burning gaze coaxes flesh to liquid,
Softly caressing bones to ash.
Oh to be the magma in your veins,
Biding my time till born anew.
is mentioned in the new poetry reviews located on the poetry discussion message board.