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@fear | |
Knocking on my door In the middle of the night Stubling out of bed Turn on the passage light So many moons since the night was my cloak Another life entirely when fear I did envoke Fumbling with my keys Tugging the nightgown along But when I opened the door The mystery knocker was gone Only a parcel left for me in his stead Holding proof of me killing those whom are long dead... |
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@mushr00m | 4 December 12 |
This parcel you speak of needs burned in a bin, the past is just that so hold up your chin! The package that came in the middle of the night its intent to give you a deeprooted fright, a picture, A name, a fact or two? Its called survival! It was them or you... Each of us have haunts in our past but those are not the memories that last. Sometimes we pray sometimes we cry the real trick to living is not to die!
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