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When a Bullet Strikes the Rain
Vanishing, one following the nextEyes squint at the darkDroplets sizzle with staccatoSpeed equates to the searA path laced with intent Quaking, she envisioning the casketFinger flicks from the triggerFabric unweaves with requiescenceChoices lead to outcomesAre all paths laced with intent Shattering, both losing the memoryAir blasts from lungsSkin rends without discoursePain asks what is betweenWhat paths are not laced with intent Hating, he admonishing the regretPistol falls from gripLead digs without remorseFragments dissolve to voidIntent pervades even after death