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Write with what you have,
even if it isn't the best.
Write with all your might,
Create wonders, feel that pride.
Write as is your right,
Let your spirit breathe again.

*Every word written
goes down in history
As a flower blooming
in the fields of poetry.
I delete half of what I create purely out of self-doubt. I'm sure I'm not the only one.
the soft,
farmiliar
fuzziness
of your blanket.
the humbling
wall art
comforting
house
a place
where you feel
safe.

the movie
starts.

walls
become tall
narrow,
you never noticed
the way the
darkness
lingers
in the far back corner
so that you
are never quite sure
of what
could be hiding there.

even after
you turn on the lights
you still
tiptoe
through the hallway
peeking
at every turn
swear
you heard something
swear
it's hiding
waiting to get you
scamper
to your bedroom
lock
the door
fall asleep
with the lights on

little did you know
it appears
when you are
asleep.
lurking
watching your every
toss and turn
waiting
for the perfect chance
to strike.

don't
close your eyes
don't
sleep
it will
devour
you.
more in my attempt to write every day

— The End —