I cut off all my hair,
in this,
the last act
to feel something.
I run my fingers through
what is left,
face flushed with fever
eyes bright
and still
the tears will not fall.
BAN
in this,
the last act
to feel something.
I run my fingers through
what is left,
face flushed with fever
eyes bright
and still
the tears will not fall.
BAN
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