We fall to our demons,
Watery tongues and grinding teeth
Ripping through our hearts
The taste of innocence
Shame
Despicable faces and their shadows
I saw a bald man pickup a comb,
And bled his scrap
His blood running all over his face
She was talking to the mirror,
The lines around her delicate eyes,
Fading the shade of her youth
My own enemy
The passions and the flesh,
When we war through life
PoetR 
no i dont
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