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ScarringRhythm
ScarringRhythm
16/M/Washington, U.S.
The muted pain from a gory nightmare that lingers even after waking up the fear of the dark that beckons a stare the comfort drink sitting cold in its cup. There's no point trying to go back to sleep. Even when awake, an ache still remains. There's no solace from the creatures that creep for when pain follows, dreams have painful stains. The cycle of fearing the Night begins when a dark thought within finally wins.
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Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 11:33 PM UTC
Night Terrors
There was a fortune teller on the street, a wizened old man who lost all his hair. For every single person he would meet, he would cast a fortune of grim despair. Nobody believed him; "he's mad," they said. They discounted his fortunes as nonsense. But when the plague spread and the skies turned red, they went to the old man for his guidance. The old man asked, "now why are you scared?" "The future is written; none will be spared."
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Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 1:10 AM UTC
Fortune Teller
Once every day, I study a mirror. I see tired eyes that don't meet other eyes. I see a mouth that speaks quick, with a slur. I see ears that are used to hearing lies. I see an arm of self-inflicted scars. I see unkempt hair like a shaggy mane. I see a face that looks not at the stars. I see hands clenched hard, as if in sharp pain. Every day I look, I see what I see, and I think, "why yes, that certainly is me!"
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Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 9:25 PM UTC
Me
The saying goes: "there is no place like home." But what is home to the poor, lonely souls? Are they destined to eternally roam, searching, but never achieving their goals? The ostracized accept their solitude; there is nothing else for them to receive. When they attempt to give, their gifts are crude; the world has taught them to always deceive. There is no place for the introverted among those who keep their eyes averted.
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Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 5:59 PM UTC
No Place Called Home
I feel as though I am being observed from a place nearby, masked by the darkness This attention feels maliciously served; I wish that the watchers would ask for less. The eyes hidden within every shadow dutifully watch my every movement. I'll make a mistake, I know that they know. And when they catch me, they'll make me repent. I trust the dark when it shows me a sign because the eyes in the dark are all mine.
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Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 11:39 PM UTC
Sleepless