a story of severed

a story of severed He cut out my tongue. The pain quickly ceases. All of the flavours I can’t stand, the words I don’t speak. Gone. He holds it in his hand with no regard of the scarlet waterfall gushing from my lips and splashing on the floor. It paints my bare feet crimson. I nearly slip. The shame of it coming to this, of having to have my tongue sliced off by someone that used to know my secrets, shames me. The last time I bled with such...
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