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Where the Dark Things Are

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“I know where the dark things are,” she said, giggling.

And she showed me the place where the broken things are made, where the shadows are crafted and lost things are born.

“I know where the dark things are,” she said, chuckling.

And she showed me jealous suns and dripping moons, and dust lands and stale waters.

“I know where the dark things are,” she said, laughing. 

And she showed me clocks that didn't tick and bells that wouldn't ring, and she showed me the wings of a broken angel.

“I know where the dark things are,” she whispered, crying.

And she showed me herself. 




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