There once was a girl,

with a time bomb on her chest.

Her screams echoed inside my hollow mind,

her tears fell through the space

between my finger tips.

Her heartbeat matched the rhythm of the bomb




She prayed to an empty sky for more time,

but refused to cut the crimson wire.

When I cried and begged and pondered why,

she whispered in my ear.

“I must ignite.”

And I realized that there is no saving someone

whose flesh is made of dynamite.

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