January 30, 2008
Its at the door,
To come in.

You know its there,
Yet you still don’t let it in.

Its waiting
At the door,
Knocking at the same rhythm
Of your heart beat,
Faster and faster with each thud.

You know who is behind the door,
Yet you curl up tighter in your bed with each knock.

It breaks the door open,
There’s a rush of cold, gloomy air
Everything escapes from your mind,
You can’t think, breathe, or talk.

There’s a bright light
You feel it burning your skin,
Then you stop feeling it,
And everything else around you

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