The tearing wasn't neat,
no surgeon's precise incision,
but a raw, ragged edge,
like fabric ripped by a sudden,
brutal force.
Air, thick and unfamiliar,
rushed into spaces
once sealed, private.
Organs, usually shy and tucked away,
now blinked in the harsh light,
vulnerable, exposed.
Words, once carefully chosen,
now spilled out, a crimson tide,
unfiltered, screaming truths
the polite tongue had always
held captive.
The inside,
a landscape never meant for...
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