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Untitled
February 19, 2009
Embraced
by Shadow's tenuous grasp,
A pulse thrums wildly in the dark.
Blank eyes stare listlessly back at me
and I feel: cold.
Serenity has no place here,
not along that infernal stretch of road
which swallows grown men whole
and spits them back out:
so weak, so tired, so old.
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