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The Eye

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I met the eye in uneasy retirement,
A tentative truce, one I knew would not remain.
But I hoped nonetheless,
For the storm had battered the windows,
Shaken my foundations, chilled me to the marrow,
Peeled off my layers one by one
And struck my vitality at its core.
But the peace would not last.
And when the storm returned, the windows shook once again
And I began to writhe, agony returning, turning me inside out
But I had faced it before, had calmed the storm, banished the demon,
But I had let my guard down.
This time, I would not.




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