Pain.
My body writhes,
An undulating motion inside.
I lie on a bed of roses,
And the petals of silk hurt me.
A fever, a fury.
Rages a fire within.
All you see from outside
Is a trickle of water,
That melts from my icy exterior.
My body writhes,
An undulating motion inside.
I lie on a bed of roses,
And the petals of silk hurt me.
A fever, a fury.
Rages a fire within.
All you see from outside
Is a trickle of water,
That melts from my icy exterior.
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