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 Mar 2014 night child
Black
headache
 Mar 2014 night child
Black
Sleeping keeps the headaches that creep back without a peep.
Consciousness more or less leaves me torn and hopeless.
Sometimes i sit in the cool dark, sometimes the hot.
Sometimes i speak to nobody and occasionally,
I get the privilege of listening.
 Mar 2014 night child
Kagami
Sizzling my bones,
My flesh
           Cracks,
                                 Dry and medium rare.

         Yet I am cold.

Blood runs down, heating me,
                    Velvet blanket.

     Vision blurs
                                      and I f
                                                   a
                                                       l
                                                          l.
           Ribbons fly,
                                    Loquacious birds ring in my head,

     "Fall and die, demons."

Burn like I do.

                                                  Blisters in the moonlight
                    Burst and flood, drown me.

       Soothe my wounds
                                      And cause deafening silence.
 Mar 2014 night child
Lyteweaver
There's a shadow hanging over me
belonging to the me
I was supposed to be.
I squirm to lose this shadow
because it is following
a ghost of me.
Looming languidly and large
it mimics my movements with melancholy.
I hide in the dark
so it won't find me.
do you need
any help
with your homework?

its fine
you dont have to pay me back

do you want
some painkillers?

you shouldnt drink
so much

watch the
kerb

are you
feeling okay?

you look sad
want to talk?

careful

we havent spoken
in a while

you have blue eyes
right?

dont run
with scissors

ill sleep on the floor
you take
the bed
A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.
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