My mornings taste sinfully bitter—
as they should.
Sunlight gleams from the devil's teeth.
A dark ring of energy
lines the bottom of my cracked mug.
The pot dotted with steam
and empty.
My mornings taste sinfully bitter—
as they should.
Sunlight gleams from the devil's teeth.
A dark ring of energy
lines the bottom of my cracked mug.
The pot dotted with steam
and empty.
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