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Poetry

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The Aftermath

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by whyme131

by whyme131

You came to me again

The aftermath is almost the worst part

How do you survive constantly reliving hell?

Dreams will turn into nightmares

And so will reality

Everything will take the shape of you

Your hands will be all over my skin

Your hands will be around my neck

I'll try and shower you off

But I've scrubbed at my skin so much

There is almost nothing left.