Red tendrils slip long spindly strands through heaving ribs.
Grasping at the air as it leaves blackened lungs.
Pulling it possessively back.

Simmering spite filled tongues lap at words foreign to bruised lips.
Garnishing responses that burn into ears of innocent bystanders,
And leave behind the sour taste of shame in the mouth of the preacher.

The spiky needles that slip from the heart embrace.
Slipping behind and piercing the crooked spine.
Poisoning the meek.

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