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Tom Oct 20
Together we are strong,

Solid and uniform, 

But something now is wrong,
The heat is turning on


We no longer belong, 

This close when it gets warm,
So I shall say so long, 

Be free in liquid form.
The physical phenomenon of melting from the perspective of an atom.
  Oct 19 Tom
I'm running out of time
And the clock is ticking fast
But I'm trying to erase
All the damage in my past

I'm running out of time
And these minutes never last
But the darkness that I face
Is the shadow that I cast
Tom Oct 18
Roaming auburn sea, broad birch and old oak,

Autumns bitter chill warmed by dawn chorus,

Sunlight dances in the grass's morning dew,

Buzzing forest falls silent around me.

Sharp, unseen eyes drilling into my back
From distant bush, shivering with movement,

One eye closed, and one narrows in on me,

A deafening flash, leaps from narrowed eye.

In my chest, dull ache builds to searing pain
Heart beats fast, time flows slow, the eyes surge up,              

Tall and slender, out of place, there it stood,
Watching keenly with fixed gaze, poised to pounce.                

As all who live here naturally know,

Avoid the slender beings, immortal, 

Whose bodies or bones have never been seen,

Throughout the forest, they walk with no fear.

Crimson warmth dripping forth, I sprint away,

Through forest, thickets and farmland I flee,

No sign of pursuit, pause at ancient oak, 

Strength ebbs from my wound, spiral into sleep.

Woken by twig snap, piercing still dusk air,

Those determined eyes, gleam in the moonlight,

Scan the treeline, ruthless and resolute,

How did it find me, called by beating heart ?

Running again, heart pounding, chest burning,

All breath is gone, the world spins around me,

Glowing eyes loom, announced by loud footfalls,

Ten feet away they lock with mine and freeze.

Heavy antlers burden my weary head, 

Tired of running, i hold the humans gaze,

Arms raised to two eyes, one eye, narrowing,

A fingers twitch, a sudden flash, darkness.
Tom Oct 11
There is but one thing,
That all humans fear,

Yet nothing we do,
Slows dreaded advance.  

Yes, death is the end,
No comfort in that,

But life is therefore,
More precious, more pure.

For us that will die,
Are luckier still,

Infinite lives lost,
Never to be lived.

That we do exist,
Is reward enough,

And better is now,
Than all time before.

Our time here will soon,
Come to darkest end,

And yet before then,
Life still has its time.

— The End —