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Two Bloody Fists
They are the only ones that hurt me. I am the only one that feels them. Two bloody fists with white knuckles and bloody fingers. Two covered in my blood not theirs. Two devastating weapons beating me. From the sidewalks people see them, but they just walk by ignoring the pain.
Their strength is known. They send high pitched howls from my lungs. I know where they are and where they have been leaving their signatures behind on my body. This is how they beat.
Let one miss, the other will take its place, each doing equal destruction. Beat, beat, beat this is how they greet. They hurt.
Whey they are too bloody and too tired to keep beating, when they are nothing against the searing pain, then it is that they stop. When there is nothing left to hit. Two who bloodied against skin. Two who destroy and do not forget to destroy. Two whose only mission is to to make you bleed and bleed.
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