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The night holds its knife Close to the threads that hold my soul It stretches its fingers across the blade And sends me surging into the starry skies Until the morning comes with its blanket Covering all of me with its threads Renewing me with purpose and life Each time it stretches With each passing hour A frail voice consumes me I'm left paranoid and hollow By the time the night creeps in Like an old stranger walking in my head Their footsteps rattle me Shattering the interweaving That hold this mask in place My nerves weaken as does my will Until I think upon the lilies Blooming in the sleepiest of dawns I let go of my blanket
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Jun 17, 2025
Jun 17, 2025 at 8:40 AM UTC
Blanket
The night holds its knife Close to the threads that hold my soul It stretches its fingers across the blade And sends me surging into the starry skies Until the morning comes with its blanket Covering all of me with its threads Renewing me with purpose and life Each time it stretches With each passing hour A frail voice consumes me I'm left paranoid and hollow By the time the night creeps in Like an old stranger walking in my head Their footsteps rattle me Shattering the interweaving That hold this mask in place My nerves weaken as does my will Until I think upon the lilies Blooming in the sleepiest of dawns I let go of my blanket
aditya-roy
Written by
28/M/New Delhi, India
Jun 17, 2025
Jun 17, 2025 at 8:40 AM UTC
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