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Cold MAG
The cold is sliding over me
Raising my skin in uneven bumps
Sliding its hand down my back
And making me shiver.
Sliding its tongue against mine,
Making my gums ache.
Its legs are rubbing against mine.
Its chest is pressed to me.
It is the unwanted lover
That brings pain and death
Instead of pleasure and life.
It wants me.
It is after me
And I have no protection
No clothes
Blankets
Heaters
Anything
To make it leave me
Alone.
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