The story of her : 3

Came running towards the door,

Pushed and slammed it. 

Coughed a bit. 

Kept the bag aside, looking through the reflectors I just washed my eyes. 

Kept quiet for sometime,

I chanted death,

Cuddled the pillow and cried. 

Sharpness of blade must play it’s role. 

Let the impulse guide. 

©ritika24 💙

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