September 8, 2011
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His twisted smile
His gnarled hands
Reaching, grabbing
For everything I am

His eyes like death
His smile crooked and grim
He sees it now
How my soul is growing dim

His laugh is cruel
Filled with torture and hate
The pain in his eyes
It's too much to take

His skin is cold
And reeks of death
His face is close
Polluting my last breaths

His claws dig deep
And his words come fast
"I'm making sure
Your cries will be your last"

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