little red riding hood

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is this it?
is this the story
of you and me?
we are all
running
scared;
tracing back
our wayward steps.
taking refuge
in these
barren confines,
bursts of ink
and notebook paper.
we found ourselves
in the crinkled folds
of a sooty unknown.
come out, come out
there is nothing left
for you here.
we were never meant
for ashes and black.
come out, come out
while it's still warm--
loneliness comes in twos.
scrambling
grasping
at the light and dreary,
it is not the dark
we're truly afraid of;
it's everything else.





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