The brutally torn fibers
Have healed almost completely
Somehow the pain is still raw
Like a gaping wound
Getting prodded by an iron rod
It throbs angrily
Whenever confronted by a mirror
The ghastly memory
Of your marvelous treachery
Somehow still irks the mind
Fresh like the early winter snow
It falls on the interior walls
Burning a seething hole
In the shape of your hand
Where my heart used to be
You and I, cut from the same cloth
We were programmed
As rivals from birth
When the right sequence is initiated
We can reset our conduits
Towards the center, facing each other
You, my blood from the south
And I, your long lost ancestor
Until then, we will continue
Cutting each other, deeply
Unless one of us bleeds out first

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