The Iron

Every eye was fixed on her

 

The women on ice

The men strung up

 

Those sharp as a cleaver shoulders

Smooth and awful

Walking to me

 

Ready

For blood

 

We were midst

 

Alone

 

Covered in eyes and paper cuts

 

Waltzed while the rain fell

While the sky fell

 

The iron

In her pupils

Screamed

It

All

Meant nothing

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