Paper CutA Poem by Cassidy MaskYou bring forth blood A tiny red bead That grows Rolls down my forefinger In a crimson river That catches Between finger And thumb In the fold of skin Then runs over The back Of my hand To my wrist Before running out Of blood. © 2008 Cassidy Mask |
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1 Review Added on August 26, 2008 Last Updated on August 26, 2008 AuthorCassidy MaskSingaporeAboutI'm at art college in Singapore. "...I never heard them laugh. They had, Instead, this tic of scratching quotes in air - like frightened mimes inside their box of style, that first class carriag.. more.. |

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