A poem about being the victim of spiking
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Created by LizzieLinds

Published on Mar 10, 2022
a photo of liquor bottles in red lighting

Before I begin I feel you there,

The friend sat on my shoulder.

You whistle a tune, a line or two

Of prepositions and wonder.

You watch me fall and get back up

and then grow to a boulder.

Shadows creep creep creep as your teeth reach my throat

and my shoulder is missing its friend.

I knew you’d be there before you knew you’d come.

My teeth’ll use your claws to prepare.

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