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Death In The Storm.

Frozen,
by the life
I've chosen,
suppose
everybody knows,
surely it shows.
As the wind blows
colder,
I grow older,
dare not
look over
my shoulder.
Through the storm,
my beauty
is torn
and tattered,
not that
it mattered.
I'm broken
and battered,
this is the storm,
my own death
is born.

Author notes

This is a pre write but for some reason I couldnt find the poems ID number so I've written it as a new poem!

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