The winter winds freezeMy eyelids close, yet blood flow cracksThe crevice of the folded skin. Tears teem down the contours, Eroding these fissures. The salty droplets sting. It itches.I try rub the pain away,But the pain paints my eyelids red, Contour after contour, Until my fingertips hold scabs of skin.
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Samuel Rubadiri 