Juice
Juice poem stories
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blastimus
blastimus but they since rose, and won the day.
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
A short poem

Juice

I got to see my dreams today, a fine silhouette not black, nor gray, and blood started rushing through every body part, turning into juice upon reaching my heart.

I feel my flesh growing stronger, meeting my life-prolonger, filling a glass for her and I, tonight not even devils will cry.

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